The Chef at Saviors
by Jemisoutageous
Summary: Emma Swan is on her way to becoming an acclaimed new chef, but there's just one thing standing in her way—food critic Regina Mills who seems to be out for blood. But what Emma finds when she scratches beneath the surface changes her entire world. This is going to be a sexy ride. (Romance. Drama. Food. Sex. Who's in?)
1. Chapter 1

Helloooo! I've been working on this for a while, so I hope you like. Let me know what you think. This should be fun! XO

* * *

"Do not shock the kale until the last possible second."

"Of course, Swan. I know."

"I know you know. But that's the difference between crispy and soggy—" Emma looked at her sous chef's knowing face. "Fine, August, I know you know what to do. But do we have enough wheat berry for the salad? And how about the adobos?"

" _Swan_."

"Ok, you're on top of it. Cut me some slack. You know how much I've been dreading this. And she could really hurt us. We are 0 for 2 with this woman, and I just can't stand another letdown. You _do_ feel like this menu is strong enough for tonight, right?"

"Swan, you have asked me that 10,000 times. Listen, your instincts are incredible, and you know it. Here, have some wine," he said pouring her a hefty glass of a Shafer Vineyards cabernet sauvignon."

"Mmm, god that's good," Emma said gratefully.

"Plus we're not _exactly_ 0 for 2. The last review was fairly positive," August said.

"Fairly positive? Which word exactly was positive?"

August put his arm around his head chef's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "She said 'Miss Swan isn't coming close to meeting her potential.' Which means she thinks you have potential. Yay?"

"Pfft. Thanks for the pep talk. Just make sure Killian doesn't get anywhere near me tonight. That kid pisses me off."

"I know, but he's good. Incredible knife skills."

"Sometimes I'd like to chop one of his hands off with a knife," Emma mumbled.

He chucked. "Look, Swan, you know we got this. You look amazing, the food is outstanding, and not even the Evil Queen is going to get in the way of this restaurant succeeding."

"Ugh. I feel like throwing up. I hate that she has this much power over me."

"Yeah, why _is_ that? It's just a review. We get dozens of reviews—some good, some less good."

"Yes, but she is the most respected food critic in this region," she said, taking another healthy gulp of wine and then mumbling, "Plus, it hurts my eyes to look at her. She's fucking gorgeous."

"What was that, Swan? Someone got the hots for the Evil Queen?"

"Come on, August. I have eyes don't I? Plus that woman would eat me alive."

"Sounds to me like you _wish_ she would eat you alive," he said winking at her. "Look, go sit on the back patio, drink your wine, and do that breathing shit that you do. We are going to finish the prep, check the rest of the reservations, and make sure the floor in the dining room is so clean that the Sexy Queen could eat off it."

"Are you sure you don't need—"

"Christ, you're difficult. Go! Get out of my kitchen."

"Pretty sure this kitchen belongs to me."

"Bragging again. Get out."

Emma shot him a smug smile and walked out to the rear patio—her favorite spot on the entire premises. Getting the restaurant up and running had been a protracted and sometimes painful ordeal, but not much in her life had ever come easy, so Emma was up for the challenge. She had to remortgage her first restaurant, a cozy BYO on a pier in Portland, Maine called Charmings. The building itself was easy to miss, but the food was exceptional, the restaurant was popular, and the location on the pier had become valuable real estate, so she was able to pull together enough to open a restaurant in Storybrooke.

It wasn't much to look at initially. She'd spotted an old warehouse by the water almost by accident when she was visiting her best friend Ruby. The stunning brunette was her best friend from culinary school, but she had fallen on hard times and ended up working at a diner in the small town.

She dragged Ruby to the warehouse, dismissing the incredulous look on her face when they pulled up. Just like Charmings, she was able to see past the dingy walls and dirty floors right through to the bones of what could be a cozy and thriving restaurant.

She had enlisted a crew of close friends from culinary school to help her do a lot of the renovations so she wouldn't have to expend too much capital on gutting and demolishing, and instead spent her money on refurbishing and decorating. Her longtime friend and sous chef, August, had helped her design a state-of-the-art kitchen and dining room with warm colors and clean, crisp décor. It was simple but inviting and would let the food be the star of the place.

But it was the spot behind the restaurant, which had initially led to a loading dock, that had captured her heart. Ruby and August had spent long hours helping her regrout the exposed brick wall she wanted to keep, cut tile for the floor, and build charming wooden tables and chairs.

After two years, working on the restaurant every chance she could get away from Charmings, Emma held a soft opening for all her friends who had helped her. On a steamy summer night, her friends stood outside at the front of the establishment, waiting for Emma to unveil the name of the restaurant, which had been covered by a huge tarp for weeks. Emma climbed a ladder, grabbed the end of the tarp, and looked down at her friends who had long ago become her family. "This is my dream come true, and I could never have done it without you. I was an orphan before you guys adopted me, so this place is for you." She pulled on the tarp, revealing the word SAVIORS in thick white letters.

"Nice one, Swan," August yelled from below.

But even from that distance, Emma could see he was truly touched.

Emma took the seat nearest to the water and swirled her wine around her glass. She still had to pinch herself to believe this was real. Having bounced from one foster home to another, Emma had learned to care for herself. She had one foster mother who taught her to cook when she was 8, and from that point on Emma watched every cooking show, read every culinary book, and took every home economics class she could—anything to learn about becoming a chef. She worked at restaurants throughout high school, bussing and waiting tables, sneaking into the kitchen to work with the line chefs.

For three years, she worked nights and weekends at a white tablecloth restaurant outside of Boston called Louie's, and the head chef, a handsome guy named David who she affectionately called Prince Charming, took her under his wing. He taught her knife skills and cooking techniques, like poaching and reducing, emulsifying and blanching. Some nights he would stay an hour or so after close and oversee Emma as she made Guinea fowl over a wood-fire or courgette risotto with girolle mushrooms.

At first, David would give her recipes to follow, but as Emma became more confident in her skills, she would improvise and add her own twists. He was mesmerized by the young girl's creativity and confidence in the kitchen, a contrast from her shy, reserved nature outside. During the frigid winters, Emma would shuffle in from the cold bundled in an old hand-me-down winter coat with holes at the seams, beanie on her head, shivering from the cold. It broke David's heart to see Emma during those months, though she'd muster up a big smile for him and put on a brave face.

The blonde was clearly beautiful—slender build, high cheekbones, and piercing green eyes that reeled you in. But she kept her beauty so in check—hair in a bun or ponytail, eyes often cast down, and lips pursed—that he often thought she'd live up to her name, a duckling that would one day become a swan.

Emma saved every penny she made in wages and tips to fulfill her dream of going to culinary school. She would eat at the restaurant whenever she could and save leftovers for the next day's lunch. By the beginning of her senior year, she had saved almost enough for freshman year, but unbeknownst to her, David made a call to a friend on the board of the New England Culinary Academy and recommended Emma for a fellowship. David filled out the necessary paperwork on her behalf, since he knew she would be too modest to do it herself. The day before Christmas, she hung up her ratty old coat, put on her waitressing uniform, and was tying her apron when David walked over to her with a broad smile.

"You look like the cat that killed the canary. What's up?" Emma said, squinting her eyes at him in interest.

"Put out your hands, Emma."

She hesitated, but put her hands in front of her, palms down. David smiled and flipped her hands so her palms were facing up and laid a large white envelope in them.

"Merry Christmas, Emma," he said, offering her one last smile and walking away.

She waited for him to turn the corner and retreated to the ladies room to open it, her heart nervously hammering in her chest. She opened the latch on the back of the envelope, opened the flap, and peered inside. There was a packet of papers, a large, heavy brochure, a card addressed to MISS EMMA SWAN, and a letter on white NECA letterhead. She pulled it out with shaking hands and began to read.

 _Dear Miss Swan,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that your submission for the Lagasse Fellowship at the New England Culinary Academy has been accepted, and you are welcome to enroll in the academy for the upcoming fall session. We are honored that you chose the NECA, and we look forward to seeing you in the fall. Enclosed you will find additional paperwork, course material, and housing information. Don't hesitate to call with any questions._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Graham Humbert, President_  
 _New England Culinary Academy_

Emma's hands shook, tears sliding down her cheeks in earnest. She retreated from the bathroom, clutching the paper in her hands, and wound through the restaurant and into the kitchen, which was already bustling with early orders. She stood stock still in the middle of the line, sous chefs and short-order cooks looking at her curiously.

"Charming!"

David whipped around and appraised Emma's confused, shocked expression, a slow smile creeping across his face.

"What does it look like?"

"It looks like you got me a scholarship to culinary school, and I just…"

Seeing how overwhelmed she was, David wiped his hands on a white towel, muttered something to the sous chef, and walked around the line, pulling Emma into a walk-in closet.

"You are gifted, Emma. I just let them know that. You are going to be a sensational chef, or whatever you decide to do."

"But how? I don't even… This is…"

"Emma, look at me."

Emma tilted her tear-stained face up to meet his gaze, shocked at the kindness and caring he saw there, an expression she had rarely seen in her 18 years of life.

"You deserve this. You are an amazing person and a talented chef, and I can't wait to see what you do," he said with a warm smile. "But hey, you can just name a restaurant after me some day."

Emma didn't trust her voice, so she nodded eagerly at him, slinging her arms around his neck for a hug. She sobbed into his shoulder, and David just patted her on the back, offering a soothing "Shhhh, shhhh, it's ok."

"Thank you. I can't possibly say how much this means to me," Emma said through her tears. "I promise I will make you proud, David."

"I know, darlin', I know."

And she did, soaring to the top of her class from the first semester, bringing energy and creativity to every class and graduating with a bachelor's degree in culinary arts and the Accelerated Culinary Arts Degree, the highest possible honor. She also earned her sommelier license and completed two internships, developing menus for an upstart restaurant group and working as a line chef at Asta in Boston, which featured an eight-course tasting menu. Emma was a rising star, but also so humble and sweet, offering help to her classmates whenever they needed it, which made her friends doggedly devoted to her.

Since she had a full ride, Emma was able to stash away the money she earned throughout high school (plus a little extra David slipped into her high school graduation card), so when she found the spot on the pier in Portland, Emma was able to put down a deposit and open her first restaurant about a year later. She hired a few of her friends, including August, and they worked like dogs, essentially working front and back of the house until they earned enough to hire more help. But it didn't take long before Charmings garnered attention. Several positive reviews in local newspapers helped the restaurant gain traction, and soon the joint was filled every night. Emma was written up as a passionate, innovative young chef, if a little raw. About six months in, it was a review in the _Boston Globe_ that left Emma with a sour taste in her mouth and her first run-in with failure.

The critic, known to be formidable and sometimes downright nasty in her writing, was Regina Mills, known to some of the locals as the Evil Queen of the Culinary World. That first time she came to the restaurant, Emma didn't even know who she was. The woman had looked Emma up and down and curtly asked for a table for one from under long lashes.

Emma graciously guided her to her seat and began explaining the day's menu to her.

"Good evening. Thank you for joining us tonight. If you're interested, I'd recommend the prawn fritters with mango carpaccio and avocado tartar with—"

"Your advice won't be necessary," Regina said. "Please send over the server."

"Certainly."

Emma learned the woman's identity after the fact, but the meal hadn't be as perfect as Emma would have wanted it. Still, she clamored to find the review in the paper the next day. August sat next to her nursing his third cup of coffee.

"Shit," Emma said, shaking her head in disgust. "Shit, shit, shit."

"What's wrong?" August asked.

"She hated it."

"Hated what, let me see," he said, snatching the paper out of her hand.

 _Head chef and proprietor Emma Swan's menu is confusing and amateurish, offering a perplexing combination of amuse-bouches and entrees, while viewed by many as inventive, are rather chaotic and leave your tastebuds begging for an explanation. But while the pairings are head-scratching, she takes few risks and is rather predictable in her means of preparing the food._

"Christ on crutches. A little harsh."

Emma just buried her head in her hands. "Evil," she muttered.

About 18 months later, after the restaurant really garnered acclaim, Regina returned, and this time Emma was prepared, making sure every dish that arrived at her table was prepared to perfection. She sent out squid with a garlic-dusted squid-ink aioli, pork rillettes with carmelized onions and lettuce, and squab breast with savoy cabbage.

This time around, Regina Mills called the food "relentlessly rich and erratic," saying the pork rillettes "would be fine enough if they weren't oppressed by its weight in onions."

So now, in the new restaurant she had dreamed of opening since she was 8, Emma was dreading another drubbing from the Evil Queen, fearing having her heart crushed by this woman for a third time. She had thought through her menu, every ingredient, every spice, for 10 days, thinking and rethinking each item. It was a surprise visit from David that had settled her nerves. He told her the food was seriously superb and that she—of all people—should trust her instincts. So she created the menu once and for all and would stand by it, even if the evil Regina Mills didn't care for her food. _Screw her_. She felt confident, prepared.

That is, until the woman walked in wearing a grey Armani suit, three-inch Jimmy Choos, perfect hair, devastating body, and eyeballed Emma dismissively.

 _Oh God_ , Emma thought. _I am so screwed._


	2. Chapter 2

I was blown away by the response to the first chapter. Thanks for all the follows and feedback. You guys are great, as always.

* * *

Emma hung back, watching the scene unfold from the kitchen. Ruby, who ran the front of the house when she wasn't helping Granny run her diner, greeted Regina Mills with a broad smile and an Aperitif (just a sip of Campari), guided her to her table in the dining room, and brought a small stool for her handbag.

Emma watched through the window as Regina took in her surroundings—the lofty ceilings, neatly displayed black and white photography against pristine walls, and deep red curtains—scratching quick notes for herself on her phone.

There was no question—this woman was completely breathtaking. Everything about her was perfectly put together, but that's not why she looked good, Emma decided. Her natural beauty—raven hair like spun silk, creamy Latina complexion, and the most lithe, feminine body Emma had ever seen in person—was affecting to Emma. She knew she was nervous, but the pounding inside her chest had more to do with this woman's physical presence.

Regina looked around, catching sight of an oversized framed black and white picture of David kissing Emma's cheek on her graduation, and her face seemed to soften. To its right, in a place of honor, was a giant picture of August, Ruby, and Emma clinking champagne glasses at the opening of Saviors. Otherwise, the decor was clean and welcoming, although a little austere.

Emma watched as Regina looked carefully at the pictures, even lifting her phone, zooming in, and taking a shot of the photos on the wall. Then she looked down at her phone, and Emma could have sworn she saw the woman smile. But suddenly, as if feeling eyes on her, Regina looked up, and the moment passed, the woman's normal steely expression settling once again upon her face.

Turning back to the action in the kitchen. Emma scrutinized the food that was about to make its way out to Regina. She dabbed a tiny stray dollop of glaze that had escaped from intended destination on the plate, neatly rounding out the complexion of the dish so it achieved visual perfection.

She knew her food was good. Her years of intense study and a good natural palette had assured that Emma's culinary techniques could rival chefs with much more experience. And she had tasted tonight's menu earlier in the day to make sure it reached its full potential. So if the Evil Queen didn't like her food now, Emma was sure she must have some personal vendetta against her. Five other food critics had proclaimed the restaurant (and the chef) to be revelatory, so she didn't need to nail this one so much as she desperately wanted to. Impressing Regina Mills and getting the written confirmation of the achievement was her goal, and it was in her sights.

Emma tried to busy herself in the kitchen and behind the bar as Regina ate, eventually coming out to the dining room to greet some of her guests. When Regina finished her final course, Emma brought her digestif—a rare single batch Scotch Whisky. She carefully placed the drink in front of Regina and stood a short distance from the table.  
Regina looked up at her, eyes sparkling with either mischief or mirth, Emma couldn't tell.

"Why Miss Swan. It's wonderful to see you. Thank you for your efforts this evening.

"Of course Miss Mills. It is _my_ pleasure, and I do hope everything was to your liking."

"Won't you sit down for a moment, Miss Swan?"

"Er, ok," Emma said, nervously taking the seat next to her.

"I won't take up too much of your time. I realize you are quite busy this evening. I just wanted to commend you on achieving so much at such a young age. You are quite driven, and it's very impressive."

 _Could've fooled me_ , Emma thought. "Thank you. I wish I could have met your expectations the last few times I've had the pleasure to serve you."

Regina seemed surprised by the statement, which in turn surprised Emma.

"I'm not sure what my expectations were, but you clearly have quite the arsenal of skills in the kitchen and anyone would have to be blind not to recognize your talent."  
On instinct, Emma's eyes shot downward, always struggling to take ownership of her success and gracefully accept a compliment. But Regina gently slid her hand under Emma's chin and brought her eyes up to meet hers.

"Truly," Regina said, the word sticking in the air with iron-clad integrity.

Despite herself, Emma fought a shiver, and treasonous tears pricked at her eyes.

"Thank you, Miss Mills. I must be going," Emma said, scooting out of her seat and retreating as fast as she could into the kitchen. She could feel Regina watching her as she left, and she just hoped she hadn't completely blown it.

August looked up as she walked into the kitchen, taking note of her teary expression and wide, vulnerable green eyes. He walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You ok, Swan? If that devil lady was mean to you, I'll rip her heart out and throw it in my soup."

"No, no. Nothing like that. She was completely respectful and really very kind, actually. I think she just caught me off guard. I'm fine, August. Thank you. And thank you for helping me get through tonight."

"That's my job."

As Emma started to walk away, August grabbed her hand, pulling her back in front of him.

"You are the most naturally gifted chef I have ever met. It was true yesterday and it will be tomorrow. Whatever that ogre in Armani says in the paper will not change that."

Emma reached up and kissed his cheek, whispering another thanks in his ear.

"I'm going to get out of here. I think I need to soak in a bath and just chill out for a while with a glass of wiine. Do me a favor and say a big thank you to everyone for tonight for me, will you?"

"Of course, Swan. I'll see you tomorrow."

Emma grabbed her bag and her leather jacket, headed out to her yellow Bug, and sped off to her apartment. She did take a bath and drank a —few—glasses of a perfectly aged Pinot Noir she had been saving, and passed out on her couch watching a _Chopped_ marathon.

* * *

When the sun came through her curtains in the morning, she was disoriented, but images of the night before came hurrying back, and she rushed to her computer to pull up Regina Mills's review online. Normally, it would have been buried in the Food section, but it was actually featured on the newspaper's homepage. She held her breath and started to read, and her heart immediately sunk.

 ** _SAVIORS HAS ALL THE INGREDIENTS, BUT THERE'S STILL SOMETHING MISSING_**

 _By Regina Mills_

 _Nothing you will eat at Saviors—not a single spice or ingredient—is anything short of superb. The layout is airy, and the restaurant's inner workings feel purposeful and not steeped in tradition for tradition's sake. But while the decor and atmosphere are stylish and warm, it's also somewhat stark. But fortunately, the food has star billing, and it is marinated in ingenuity._

 _My salad was a clever and careful composition of compressed figs and young red beets, Hakurei turnips in wheat berry reduction, red ribbon sorrel, and a coulis of pine nuts, which brought unexpected bursts of flavor. The sumptuous torchon of Élevages Périgord moulard duck foie gras, served with celery-branch batons, candied walnuts, frisée and juniper-balsamic vinegar was the food equivalent of silk sheets—utterly decadent. My server—a fresh-faced girl named Belle—instructed me to spread it thickly on brioche toast, which she kept replacing every few minutes, since (she said) it should only be eaten warm._

 _Finally, I dined on pan-roasted Massachusetts cod, with applewood smoked bacon, sage-dusted littleneck clams, pickled garlic, over massaged kale. The ingredients—all locally sourced and coaxed into an array of flavors._

 _There was just one problem—the food at Saviors won't tell you anything about the chef. This was my third time dining at a restaurant run by the prodigious local star, Emma Swan, and while her food was nothing short of dynamic, complex, and creative, diners will leave her restaurants utterly unsure about who Emma Swan is under her shock of long blonde curls and behind the steely green eyes because her food is uninformative and is therefore uninspired. The overall experience is akin to hearing a symphony of spectacular musicians who each aspire to play at their own tempo, leaving the audience unsure of what they are hearing._

 _Ultimately, the restaurant hits all the compulsory marks, but neglects to stick the landing on the artistry._

 _If you happen to know what inspired Emma Swan's love of food or where in the culinary arts her passion lies and why, you likely didn't learn it from eating a meal at Saviors (or Charmings, for that matter). But I'd love to know the answers because she's certainly whet my appetite._

Emma read the entire review a second time through, trying to make heads or tails of what she just read. Then a third time. But by the fourth time, she felt pretty low and supremely frustrated. The woman was saying her food was technically sound but didn't convey passion for food or personality. She paced back and forth in her apartment, cultivating a nervous energy that was building to a crescendo. Then she felt her cell phone buzzing in her back pocket. _David_.

"Hi."

"You're upset? I thought it was great."

"David, seriously."

"I'm totally serious. She is the toughest food critic in the Northeast, and she thought your food was spectacular."

"Yeah and passionless. And that it didn't convey shit about who I am."

"Emma. Listen to me. You are young. It takes time to speak through your food. You'll get there."

"Oh, you agree with her? What the hell, David? You might have told me my food was technically sound but emotionally bland. God, I wish I could just go over to her house and wring her neck. But she probably lives in a penthouse in Boston somewhere?"

"Emma, are you serious? You didn't know she lives in Storybrooke?"

" _What_? How have I not seen her? This town has like six people in it."

"I've heard she's a little leery of new people. But she actually lives in that big white mansion on Mifflin Street."

"How do you even know that?"

"Her family is legend in this industry. They've owned that house forever. Her father, Henry, was a restauranteur and her mother, Cora, well, she sort of burned the proverbial house down. You know, her life hasn't been much of a fairy tale either, Emma. Cora Mills pretty much single-handedly ruined Regina's chance to become a head chef, which is how she ended up as a food critic. Jeez, Emma, I would have thought you would have researched your nemesis. Keep your enemies close and all that."

"Well aren't you the Regina Mills expert? And yes, if I knew she was going to become such a consistent adversary, maybe I would have done a little more digging. But I've been a little busy. However, I'm on the case now. God, she was actually nice to me last night. I'm such an idiot. She totally has my number. She lulled me into a false sense of security and then nailed me with an uppercut. She really is the Evil Queen."

David was quiet.

"Hello? I thought this was a pep talk."

"No, I was calling to congratulate you. This is the big-time Emma. She said a lot of wonderful things about you and your food, but if you want to focus on the negative, that's up to you."

"You know what? I need to blow off some steam. Thanks for the kudos, but I'm going for a run."

"Later sunshine. Talk to you soon."

"Bye."

* * *

Emma hung up and threw on some running clothes, laced up her sneakers, and grabbed her headphones. She started to run at a bruising pace, driven by anger at the fact that she'd had every door flung in her face since birth. Couldn't anything ever come easily? Just once. Before she knew it, Emma had run across town and found herself in a wealthy part of Storybrooke she'd never visited before. She was about to pull up Google Maps when she saw a familiar name on a street sign. Mifflin Street.

"Holy fuck."

Emma slowed to a jog and began looking at each house, trying to determine from the outside which one belonged to Regina Mills. She came to an enormous estate at 108 Mifflin Street, and a dark-haired boy—maybe 15—trotted outside holding a basketball. He caught Emma's eye and offered her a friendly smile.

"Hi."

"Hey, do you live here?"

"Yup. But you don't. I've never seen you before."

"No, I'm kinda new here. I'm looking for someone. Maybe you know… Do you happen to know where Regina Mills lives?"

"Ha, yeah. I know pretty well, actually. She's my mom, and she lives here," he said, gesturing to the house.

"Oh shit. I mean, um, wow. Ok, good to know, thanks," Emma said, turning to leave.

"Well did you want to see her?"

"Umm…" Emma looked down at her sweaty shirt and swiped a hand across her matted ponytail.

"Come on, she's here. What did you say your name was?"

"I'm Emma Swan."

Suddenly his eyes lit up, as if he knew her, which Emma thought was odd.

"The chef?"

"Oh, uh, yes. How did you…"

"I'm Henry Mills. Come inside."


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter gets a little bit dramatic, but angst isn't really my thing. Hope you're liking this. I'm having a blast writing this one. XO

* * *

Emma's brain was officially on autopilot as her body took over, one foot following the other as Henry led them into Regina Mills house. Once or twice her mind screamed out a warning ( _Stop! She's going to eat you alive, you idiot!_ ), but she found herself in the foyer of the mansion nonetheless.

She scanned her surroundings, in awe at its opulence and sense of style. Every surface was rich and polished, every fabric chosen with precision. It was stunning, and Emma felt completely out of her league in her sweaty running clothes and messy ponytail. And yet, her feet were still propelling her further into the lion's den until Henry came to a stop in front of a door.

"Mom?" he called, rapping his knuckles lightly against it. "Emma Swan is here to see you."

"Come in."

Henry opened the door, and stepped aside so Emma could enter first. Regina was regally seated at a grey table made of the thick, smooth marble toward the back of the large study, which was framed by a floor-to-ceiling window and stunning black and white drapery. She was perfectly dressed in a grey silk shirt and black pencil skirt, and her gorgeous, slender legs were crossed under the desk. She looked up from her paperwork with an impassive expression, almost as if she expected Emma to come running over.

"Well hello, Miss Swan. Lovely to see you again so soon. I see you've met my son, Henry."

"Yes, he's quite the gentleman," Emma said, offering the boy a quick wink.

"I just brewed some iced tea. Henry, would you mind getting some for our guest?"

"That's not necessary, but thank you," Emma said tersely.

"I insist. It looks like you've had a hard run. Must be about 6 miles across town to get here," Regina said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, uh… Wait, you know where I live?"

"Indeed."

She got up from her desk, walked over to Henry, put an arm around him, and whispered something in his ear. He smiled at Emma and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Regina moved to perch against her desk so she was standing in front of Emma and regarded her properly, looking more closely at the distress on the young woman's face. But to Emma's surprise, Regina's own face changed to one of concern, the veneer of disregard washed away.

"Now then, Miss Swan, what can I do for you?"

"Well, first, I wonder if you could call me Emma. I'm kind of a casual girl, you know?"

"No, I don't know. But I'd like to know," Regina said, one side of her mouth tilting up, adorably, Emma thought.

"Ugh! No, you can't be sweet to me! This is frustrating. You seemed so nice last night too, and then once again you slammed me in your review. What gives, lady?"

"You thought that was a slamming? There are about 150 chefs in the New England area who have received far worse treatment who would beg to differ, I'm afraid. I do have an Evil Queen reputation to uphold, after all. But I'm in the business of calling it like I see it. Your food is exceptional, Emma, but it seems to me you're still holding back. I thought that was clear in my words."

Regina's eyes burned into her—not with malice but with emotion—and Emma had to look away. Her eyes fell on the picture frames on Regina's desk. In one, her head was tented with a toddler version of Henry, and they were laughing, nose to nose, with each other. A second photo was a smiling Regina with Monégasque chef Alain Ducasse. Emma immediately recognized from her studies that they were at his famed restaurant, The Dorchester in London. The third photo showed Regina with her arms around someone Emma knew all too well, the ramifications of which made her feel woozy, confused, and sick.

David.

Emma faltered as she grew lightheaded, and she had to grab onto Regina to keep from falling back.

"Emma! Are you all right? Please sit down."

But Emma's brain finally kicked into full gear, and she began to seethe, the full implications of the betrayal clawing painfully at her heart.

"How do you know David?" she spat. And Regina's face was suddenly clouded with understanding.

"Oh, yes, I suppose I buried the lead there. If you'll let me explain—"

"No, I think I've heard enough from you today," Emma said, scurrying out of the room with Regina following closely behind.

"Emma! Please. I think if you'll just let me explain…"

Emma wheeled around on her so suddenly that Regina had to brace herself against Emma to avoid running her over. They were face to face, the blonde's green eyes burning with angry tears.

"You know what? I don't know what kind of game this is, but I have only myself to blame. When you have dirt kicked in your face before your old enough to crawl and the world makes it clear that you're an unwanted piece of garbage, you better learn fast to only trust yourself. But I somehow keep forgetting that. Why don't you put that in your next article?"

Regina gaped at her and could only watch as Emma turned on her heels and sped out the door.

* * *

Emma's phone continued to buzz in her pocket. She knew it was David, but there was no way she was talking to him. August texted a few times, wondering if she was ok and if she was coming into Saviors. She also had a few missed calls from Ruby. And there was one from an unknown number, which she presumed was Regina Mills.

Since she had run to Mifflin Street, it took her a long time to get home, but she was grateful for the isolation and the time to process her emotions. _What the hell just happened_ , she kept asking herself. But even if she could come close to answering that, it begged the bigger, more illusive question, _What the hell do I do now_?

She finally got home around 2 p.m. and took a long, hot shower. She pulled on some sweats, poured herself some wine, and listened to one of David's messages.

"Emma. I don't know what you think you just saw, but I am pretty sure I earned the right for you to listen to an explanation from me. So here's the deal. Regina and I were very good friends—best friends—in culinary school. Something terrible happened to her while we were there, and it pretty much sealed our friendship forever. You know what? Can you just call me? I can't tell this whole story on a voicemail. And I need to know that you're listening. Call me. Bye."

Emma looked down at the phone like it was a dirty bomb, debating about what to do. But it dawned on her that she had no choice but to trust David. And August. And Ruby. Because she really didn't have anyone else in the world who had her back. So she pressed call back on his message and waited for him to answer.

"Emma?"

"Before you get into your whole spiel, can you just answer one question? Why didn't you tell me? When I cried to you over the first two reviews and then practically had a meltdown over the third, why didn't you just say, 'Oh, by the way, Cruella DeVille is my bestie?'"

"I thought about it, believe me. But I'll explain if you'll just hear me out. Emma, you know I love you and I've been like your big brother watching out for you for almost half your life."

"I'm listening," Emma said, her voice softening. She knew he was right. Emma owed him so much, but it was unbearable to think that he had been hiding something like this from her. Or worse, let her walk right into a bear trap.

"Ok, so Regina and I met through a mutual friend, my best friend, actually. A guy named Daniel."

"Yes, you've told me about Daniel. This was your friend who died rather suddenly," Emma said, trying to strain out the concern in her voice.

"Yeah, well that was Regina's boyfriend. She's very private about this, so I'm only going to share the broad strokes, but basically Regina was top of our class, but Daniel was a scholarship kid. Regina's mother called him a street rat."

Emma winced. She herself had been called that same name plenty of times.

"He was such a good guy, and they were in love. But she got pregnant."

"Henry," Emma whispered.

"Yes, and Cora basically made Daniel's life a living hell. She didn't want him to be any part of that baby's life. She threatened him and had him so tied up in knots that he started drinking, the kid barely slept—it was excruciating to watch."

"Anyhow, a few months into the pregnancy, he hadn't slept for like 48 hours, and he left to go to his job at the stables, and he flipped his car over a median and hit a tree. He died almost instantly."

Emma gasped, her heart breaking for Regina's younger self.

"Regina was… I mean, to say devastated doesn't cover it. So I made sure to look out for her and the baby too. We were close. Then a few years later, even though she lost her passion for becoming a chef—I think she saw too many ghosts in the kitchen—her family had given so much to the school, so they put her on the board of the New England Culinary Academy."

Emma felt the blood drain out of her, realization that these two people—David and Regina—had been instrumental in her dreams coming true, was almost too much to take.

"Holy shit."

"So when I got to know you and I saw what you were capable of, Emma, I reached out to her. I told her your story. I collected paperwork for her so she could make a case for you at the school. And she did. I don't want to say any more because I don't want you to feel guilty or indebted to either of us in any way, but let me just say that she looked out for you."

"Why?" Emma asked, incredulous. "Why would this stranger do all this for an orphan, a nobody?"

"Well I think that's a question for her, but I'll just say that a kid with such potential who was cast aside as a street rat is a story she could relate to all too well, and I think it meant so much to her to see you succeed."

Emma sat down on the couch, feeling at once like the tectonic plates of her life had suddenly shifted.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. She didn't want you to know. And she went out of her way in those reviews to try to be objective and to challenge you. She knows your potential, and so do I. Do you forgive me?"

"Yes, David, there's nothing to forgive. It's a little hard to get my brain around it, but I will. I'm just glad I know now. There haven't been a whole lot of chances in my life for me to feel grateful, but you've been responsible for many of them, and apparently Regina Mills has too. It's just hard to believe."

"I know, sunshine. I love you, Emma Swan, and I just want you to be happy, all right?"

"All right, Charming. We'll talk soon."

"Ciao, bella."

* * *

Emma had no idea how long she sat there, but it was dark before she finally got up and started rifling through the refrigerator for something to whip up. She spent most nights at the restaurant, so the options were pretty slim. She settled on goat cheese and arugula omelets when the she heard a knock at the front door.

She peered through the key hole, and there was Regina Mills. Emma's heart immediately started that racing thing it did every time the brunette was in her airspace. She opened the door and gave Regina a small smile.

"Hi," Emma said.

"Hello, Emma. Would it be all right if I talked to you for a few minutes? I don't want to intrude, but—"

"Yes, of course. Come inside. Let me take your coat."

Regina shedded her trench coach and handed it to Emma. Under the coat, Regina wore a simple button down white oxford and dark jeans, her hair pulled back in a loose braid. Emma was sure, stripped of her usual stylish, high-priced attire and makeup, she had never seen anything more beautiful.

"I was just about to open a beer. Would you like a glass of wine or something else?"

Regina smiled. "I would love a glass of wine."

"Red?"

"Of course."

Emma pulled a wine glass from the shelf and poured Regina a generous glass.

"It's an aged Chateau Latour Cab. You'll love it."

"I'm sure I will, dear," Regina said, swirling her wine around the glass, inhaling, and taking a generous sip.

"That's incredible."

"I know. One day I'm going to get to Bordeaux. It's on my bucket list."

"Mine too," Regina said.

They stood there in the kitchen of Emma's apartment, looking at each other with mutually warm expressions, letting the air between them thicken.

Then, they both started talking at once.

"Listen, Regina, I just want to—"

"Emma, I'm sorry that I—"

Emma let out a snort and Regina chuckled lowly in her throat.

"Ok, Regina. You go first."


	4. Chapter 4

Alright. Starting to heat up a little. Hope you like this one.

* * *

Regina took a deep breath, settled herself in a tall chair at the kitchen island, and tapped her fingers nervously against her wine glass. She was visibly anxious, and Emma thought that was completely charming. She reached out and curled a hand around Regina's bicep gently.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not going to bite. I promise."

The brunette smiled gratefully at her.

"Well, it's just that I'm not sure how much David told you or how much you really want to hear."

"He told me how the two of you met and became close friends at school. He shared a bit about your tragic loss. Which, God, Regina, I'm so sorry. That must have been positively horrible for you."

Regina met her eyes and nodded solemnly, waiting for Emma to continue.

"Then he told me that he had reached out to you to see if you might be able to help me get into NECA and possibly get a scholarship and that you were a huge advocate for me at that time and even afterward. And that's basically it. I really have no idea why you helped me, but I can't possibly thank you enough. And I'm sorry about this morning because clearly you didn't deserve that."

Regina looked at her thoughtfully.

"Did you know that I had met you twice before David reached out to me. Do you remember that?"

"No. Where? When?"

"I came to visit David at Louie's a few times when I just needed to get away for a few days. I sat at the bar both times I came in, but you brought my food and chatted with me for a bit."

Emma's eyes widened almost comically, suddenly perfectly recalling their interactions.

"Holy crap. Yes. I remember."

"The first time, I'm afraid I had a bit too much to drink, and I may have over shared some of my tale of woe with you after your shift, and even though you needed to take a city bus home in the cold and still had school work to do, you stayed and listened. Do you remember that at all?"

"Yes. I remember—how could I have forgotten that?"

Regina shrugged, wanting her to know it was ok.

"The second time we met, I sat very close to a table you were waiting on. It was an older gentleman and his wife. It was clear you had waited on them many times before, and the couple was clearly very fond of you."

Emma nodded, but her face flushed and her eyes cast down.

"Mr. Farmer. That guy was at total perv."

"Indeed. When his wife got up to go to the bathroom, he propositioned you. He insinuated he could give you quite a bit of money in return for services and discretion. You were polite but turned him down. But he slipped a wad of hundred dollar bills into your apron anyway. And when the man left, do you remember what you did?"

"I think I gave it away to someone."

"You very discreetly handed it to the 15-year-old bus boy and thanked him for being such a big helper that night. Emma, I was blown away. I was raised around a lot of very wealthy people, and no one I have ever met would have done that, especially given how hard you were working to save money at the time."

Emma hid her face in her hands, but Emma pried them away.

"Oh man, Regina. I had no idea you saw that. That's not exactly something I would have wanted you—or anyone—to see."

"Well I _did_ see it. And it almost single-handedly restored my faith in people. So when David told me about you and what you were capable of in the kitchen, I wanted to help you for so many reasons. Besides your enormous talent and incredible culinary instincts, which clearly David was very prescient about, you possess gifts that I'm not even sure you're aware of, Emma."

Emma sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by what she was hearing from this woman who held so much stature, beauty, and poise.

"I've made so many mistakes in my life, but helping you earn a chance to realize those gifts, I'd make that choice again a thousand times over."

Emma's throat felt tight, and her eyes burned. She wanted to say something, but her voice wouldn't come. So she stepped toward Regina, pulled her down from her chair, and wrapped her arms around her. Regina was surprised, and at first her body was rigid, but Emma wouldn't let go, burying her face in the brunette's shirt, and she began to relax into the embrace. As Regina tightened her grip around her, Emma began to cry, her shoulders shaking.

Regina rubbed her hands soothingly across Emma's back and began a comforting refrain.

"Shh, Emma. It's ok. Please don't cry."

After a few minutes, the quaking shoulders relaxed, and Emma pulled back minutely to look at Regina's face. Her tear-stained cheeks and wide green eyes tugged at Regina's heart.

"Thank you," she said hoarsely. "I wish I could repay you somehow."

"Enough of that, dear. You would have done the same thing in my shoes. I am certain. Lets put that behind us. Besides, I may have been a bit harsher in some of my reviews than was warranted. Perhaps overcompensating for a conflict of interest a bit… But I genuinely care about you, and I'd very much like to get to know you, so lets put all the gratitude aside so we can start fresh."

Regina pulled back and held out a hand. Emma took it, and when their hands met, her pulse began to quicken.

"Hello. I'm Regina Mills. Pleasure to meet you."

"Hi. I'm Emma Swan. The pleasure is mine."

* * *

The two women drank their wine, and Regina helped Emma make omelets, chopping arugula and whisking the eggs. Emma told her all about her experience at the culinary academy, and they laughed about some of the weirder professors they had both encountered there. They talked about David, and his new girlfriend, Mary Margaret, who Regina said was "a bit too Snow White" for her taste, but that she had a feeling it was going to last.

"Seriously? This coming from the Evil Queen? That's a little harsh," Emma said as she flipped an omelette.

"Touche. But I caught her talking to a squirrel in their back yard, so I call it like I see it."

Emma nearly spit out the wine she was drinking and doubled over in laughter. And then Regina began to laugh, until the two of them were in hysterics.

"Shit, I'm going to burn our food, and then you'll have to write another review about how I can't even cook an omelette."

"Nope. No more of that. I'm officially retired from writing Emma Swan reviews."

"Thank god. I don't think my heart could take another one. Or my staff. I think they were going to kill me this week."

Emma plated their food and set Regina's in front of her on the island and sat down opposite her with her own dinner.

"Regina, this may be too soon or too forward to ask you… But why did you stop pursuing becoming a head chef yourself?"

A shadow fell over Regina's face, and Emma instantly regretted asking the question.

"You know what? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… that was too personal."

"No, it isn't. I mean it is, and in fact the only person I've ever talked to about it is David. But for some reason I can't explain I feel like I could tell you anything. Is that crazy?"

"Not crazy at all."

They looked at each other, and Emma found herself getting lost in brown eyes. She had to admit to herself that what she was feeling was not just affection for a woman who had gone out of her way to help her. It was an intense attraction. There was a chemistry between that buzzed and crackled, a feeling Emma had truly never experienced. And it was making her head swim.

Emma forced her eyes away and scooped a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"Mmmm. We did good," Emma said, moaning a bit into the air. Regina just watched her, transfixed, and Emma wished she knew what was happening in her head, whether she was feeling anything remotely close. Regina took a bite, and nodded her agreement.

"Delicious. You make a mean omelette, Emma."

"Well, considering limited resources. I should really go grocery shopping once in a blue moon. It was a little stark in there."

"You work too hard. You have since you were a teenager. I know opening a restaurant is tough and time consuming, but you should make time for fun too. You are a young, beautiful woman. When's the last time you went out on a date?"

"Oh God. Uh, I can't even remember. I dated a guy named Neil in college, but that really went nowhere. And for a hot minute in Portland I was dating a woman named Elsa, but she turned out to be a bit of an ice queen if you know what I mean."

Regina chuckled.

"I _do_ know what you mean. So, if you don't mind me getting personal… Are you bisexual? What's the story there?"

Emma's eyebrows shot up, and Regina just smirked at her.

"Weirdly, I've never given it that much thought. I think in my heart I probably prefer women, but I've been attracted to both men and women. I'm definitely not straight, if that's what you're asking."

Regina eyed her closely with a look that Emma couldn't read.

"I guess what I'm asking is if you'd consider going on a date with me."

At that moment, Emma was sure all the blood from her body had found its way to her face, and she tugged nervously at her hair. She looked up at Regina, who was looking at her, both nervous and bemused.

"Yes, I, um… Yes, Regina, I'd love to go on a date with you. I wasn't sure, you know, if you were feeling what I was—"

Regina surged in across the island, swallowing the rest of Emma's sentence with her full lips. She just let their lips gently touch, just kissing her softly to convey her feelings on the matter. Then she pulled back to look at her.

"I was. I _am_ ," Regina said, quirking her mouth into a sideways smile. "I'm not usually this forward. In fact, I haven't really dated anyone seriously since Henry was born. I can't explain what this is between us, but it's like the temperature in the room rises a few degrees every time you're near me."

Emma smiled, relieved.

"Yes, and my palms get all sweaty," she admitted, holding up her hands for proof. "I'm glad you were forward. I think it would have taken at least another bottle for me to ask you out. And maybe not even then."

"Do I scare you, Emma?"

"Well, have you seen you, Regina? You can be a little intimidating. You're almost too beautiful to believe, you're always perfectly put together, you're one of the most respected food critics in our part of the world, and you add this little wrinkle tonight… Yes, I'd say so, just slightly terrifying."

Regina walked around the island, coming to a stop in front of the blonde. She pulled her in for another kiss, firmer this time.

"I don't want you to be nervous around me. But we can work on that. It's been quite a day."

"You're not kidding. I don't know, though. It's hard for me to imagine being in a room with you now or 10 years from now where my heart doesn't beat a little faster. It's… Well, it's kind of crazy, actually."

Regina smiled broadly.

"I think it's time for me to go before I'm tempted to see just how fast I can make your heart go. Will you walk me out?"

Emma blushed at her shyly, feeling suddenly giddy. Regina laced their hands together and led the way to the front door. Emma grabbed her coat out of the closet and held it open for Regina.

"When will I see you?" Emma asked quietly.

"Well, I know you have quite a demanding schedule, and you need to be at the restaurant on the weekends, so how about Wednesday night?"

"That sounds perfect. What should we do?"

"I know I'm a little out of practice, but I asked you out, so why don't you let me plan the date, and I'll let you know what kind of attire and what time? Sound ok, Emma?"

"That sounds amazing, Regina. I honestly can't wait."

She bundled up the brunette and tugged on her collar to bring her closer. Emma kissed her soundly on the lips, chaste but sweet, and then drew her arms around her for a warm hug, locking her hands to her elbows and breathing her in.

"It's chilly out there," she said into her neck. "Stay warm, ok?"

Regina shivered and nuzzled her nose into the crook of her neck.

"I have a feeling I will," Regina said.

She reluctantly pulled away and gave Emma one last smile before disappearing through the door. Emma closed it, letting her body fall against it, the heat rising through her. She felt like a teenager—drunk with the feeling of having made a connection of this magnitude. She didn't know why, but she just had a feeling that this was a game changer. This woman—in a short period of time—had invaded her mind and heart in the best possible way. She couldn't wait for the next words out of her mouth, the next kiss, the next touch.

Her nerve endings were on fire—Emma felt more alive leaning against that door than she had felt at any other moment in her life.

She reached back and grabbed her phone from her pocket and tapped her best friend's name.

"Rubes? Are you sitting down? You're not going to fucking believe the day I just had."


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the feedback. You know I looooove it!

* * *

Emma went through the next few days in a fog. At Saviors, she'd start her menu planning for the week, head into the walk-in freezer to check on inventory, and suddenly forget why she was in there. During Tuesday's prep, she doubled the honey in the cranberry-apple gastrique she was making, and her browned butter with white truffle oil came out looking a little grey.

August looked over her shoulder at the murky mixture Emma had concocted and smirked.

"So, Swan… anything you want to tell me?"

"Not sure what you mean," Emma said, feigning indifference.

"I think you know _exactly_ what I mean. I have never seen you like this, so that can only mean one thing. You've got a crush."

Emma pulled the pan off the heat, turned off the burner, wiped her hands on a towel, and turned to face him.

"I'm don't. I just have a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, like getting laid," August shot back. "Which I wholly endorse. It's been—what—two years, with another human being, I mean?"

"Look, I'm interested in someone, but it's much too soon to call it anything, and I'm not going to jinx it by talking about it."

"How come Ruby gets to know?"

"What the hell is this, high school? Ruby gets to know because she's my best friend, and unlike some people, she doesn't have a big fucking mouth."

"Pfft. That's bullshit, man. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. This is juicy. I can tell."

"A little space, August. Why don't you make yourself useful and brown me some butter with white truffle oil?"

Emma shot him a look and headed to the dining room to do some mindless prep work. Cleaning the silver, making sure the wine glasses were spotless— _that_ she could handle.

—

"Emma, you've been wiping down the same fork for five minutes," Ruby said, nudging the blonde's shoulder playfully. "August says you've been like this for two days. Girl, did this woman cast a spell on you, or what?"

Shaking out of her daze, Emma looked up at Ruby.

"I don't know, Red. I can't stop thinking about her. Maybe she _did_ put me under a spell. It sort of feels like that. Plus I don't even know what I'm going to wear tomorrow, and what if I pull an Emma and totally fuck this up by being, you know, myself. You know I'm more than capable of doing that."

Ruby grabbed Emma's hands firmly in her own and pulled her closer.

"Emma, from what you told me, this woman isn't after you for your looks or your success and god knows not your money. She saw something in you from a very young age that wormed its way into her heart (which makes me love her by the way), and now you're a grown ass woman. A successful, talented, fucking gorgeous, sexy, funny, caring woman. She'd be an idiot _not_ to date you. If I wasn't into dudes, I would have dated you myself a long time ago. You're sensational."

Emma smiled at Ruby gratefully and pulled her in for a hug.

"I love you. You are seriously the best."

"I love you, too, sweets. Oh, and I brought you some options for tomorrow night. I wasn't sure if you were going for casually sexy or make-her-want-to-rip-your-dress-off-with-her-teeth sexy. So I brought both. You can bring them all home with you and see what works."

At first Emma laughed, but then her face grew pale.

"What?" Ruby asked.

"Ugh, I haven't had sex in so long. What if she? What if I—"

"You know what, baby girl? You're totally overthinking this. Don't even worry about all that. It sounds like the two of you have crazy chemistry, so you'll know what to do. Plus—bonus—the two of you have the same basic parts, so I have a feeling that big brain of yours will figure out how to get her off," Ruby said, tapping on Emma's head.

"It's good that you're terrified. It means you really like her. If you weren't all worked up, I'd think you were as apathetic about her as everyone else you've ever gone out with. This one seems special. I heard this thing on Oprah once that I totally buy into. Are you ready for it? I'm about to blow your mind with some wisdom."

"Never more ready."

"It's wonderful to be loved, but to be understood is a revelation. Maybe that's what you've got brewing here, you know? How you like them apples?"

"That's really good, and I think that's what has me tied up in knots."

'It'll be ok. Just be you. It's like _Bull Durham_."

"Huh? The baseball movie? You've got my head spinning today."

"Yeah, Kevin Costner. He tells the pitcher that he's overthinking baseball. 'It's a simple game: You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball,'" Ruby says, grinning.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but message received. I'm going to shut off my brain and just focus on looking hot tomorrow night."

"Boom! Gimme some, girlfriend," Ruby said, pointing to her cheek and letting Emma give her a kiss. "Later, blondie."

—

By 4 pm on Wednesday, Emma had tried on the three outfits Ruby brought her twice, and yet she was flopped on the bed in her tank top and boy shorts, an arm draped over her eyes. She wanted to be excited, but there was a steady refrain running through her mind along the lines of _This woman is so out of my league._

And that's when her phone buzzed.

 **Regina:** Can I guess what you're doing?

 **Emma:** I don't know, but I kind of hope not.

 **Regina:** You're ripping your closet apart trying to figure out what the hell to wear.

 **Emma:** Jesus. You so have my number. I'm pathetic and predictable.

 **Regina:** No. It's unbelievably cute. But I'm going to rescue you right now.

 **Emma:** Yes! Put me out of my misery. Let me guess. You're canceling our date because you forgot The Voice is on Wednesday nights.

 **Regina:** Oh hell no. You're not getting off that easy, Swan. But here's how I'm saving you. Put on jeans and a sweater, maybe brush your hair and teeth, and then come over to my house. Henry is sleeping at a friend's house tonight (yes, on a school night), and I am making us dinner.

 **Emma:** That's the best news I've heard all day. Thank you for preemptively saving me from myself. ;)

 **Regina:** My pleasure. See you at 7, Swan.

 **Emma:** Can't wait, Mills.

Emma tossed her phone on her desk and did a nerdy little fist pump, the giddiness finally overwhelming the nervous butterflies. 7 couldn't come soon enough.

—

But by the time she pulled up to Regina's house in her yellow bug, armed with a bottle of Miner Vineyard Oracle that she'd been saving from her trip to Napa, her stomach had once again started to churn. Her heart raced as she walked up to the door, looking sleek in skinny jeans, boots, and a gauzy green sweater that she knew made her eyes look even brighter. She stood there for a moment, working up the courage to ring the bell.

 _Breathe, Emma_.

But suddenly the door swept open, revealing Regina, fresh-faced, wearing a simple red v-neck and jeans, barefoot, and never more beautiful. She took Emma in, and her cheeks seemed to pink, her eyes seemed to warm.

Regina reached for Emma's hand, pulled her across the threshold, and took the bottle of wine from her, setting it down on the table behind her. She took Emma's coat and hung it in the closet. Then she returned her eyes and attention to Emma, connecting their eyes and reading her thoroughly.

"Hello, Emma," she said, taking a small step toward her.

Emma was completely mesmerized. _Maybe I am under a spell._ But she matched Regina, moving toward the brunette. And another, until they were three inches apart.

"Hi, Regina."

"Emma?"

"Yes, Regina?"

"Is it too early in the date to kiss you?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Emma said, her pulse doubling.

Regina wound herself around Emma, arms reaching behind her, pulling her flush against her body. She tented their heads together, just reveling in being in the blonde's space, breathing her air.

"You feel so good to me," Regina whispered.

"So do you," Emma breathed back.

Then Regina tilted her head and captured Emma's lips, kissing her soundly but languidly. Emma opened her mouth for Regina's tongue, and the two of them shared the most sensual, sweet, desirous kiss either of them could ever remember.

Regina pulled back, both women panting lightly.

"Emma, I think I have to stop touching you now, or we're not going to make it out of the foyer," Regina said, chuckling against her mouth.

Emma smiled, stepped back, and took her hand.

"Ok, show me the rest of the house," she said.

—-

Regina gave her the tour, showing her the living room, library, and dinning room, and Emma was slightly in awe of just how majestic the home was. But when they got to the family room, the feeling of the place changed. The furniture was cozier and more casual. And with pictures everywhere of Henry and Regina—sledding, laughing, dressed up in Halloween costumes, performing as a pirate in a play—the room felt much more intimate.

There was one picture in the far corner of the room that Emma couldn't take her eyes off. The picture was taken at the same school play, but the photo was of Regina watching Henry. She was watching the little boy with so much devotion, so completely in the moment, her eyes sparkling with tears, that the picture was a clear doorway into her heart. And Emma loved it. She traced the picture with her finger, looking up to smile at Regina.

"You're beautiful," Emma said, watching the blush creep into Regina's cheeks.

"I think dinner's ready," she said, offering Emma her arm. "Shall we?"

Emma looped her arm through Regina's.

"Lets see what you got."

* * *

Regina led Emma into the kitchen, which was lit with tall candles and smelled of the most alluring array of spices that Emma couldn't put her finger on. Regina pour her a glass of The Oracle, which she said would go perfectly with what they were eating.

"Can I help?"

"Not a bit. It's all ready. Please sit down."

Regina pulled out a tangine of aubergines with honey and stewed lamb with cumin and chestnuts, and the aromatics alone had Emma's mouth watering.

"Oh, wow. Regina. This looks incredible."

Regina sat down and poured herself a glass of wine.

"I hope you enjoy it. You set the bar pretty high, Emma," she said, raising her glass. "To our first date and the promise of many more."

They clinked glasses, and took a sip, avoiding the bashful smile that was threatening to creep across her face.

"Tell me about the food."

"I lived in Granada for a few months with Henry. I wanted to learn Spanish, but also I was trying to escape the confines of my life. There was this little restaurant there called Colina de Almanzora that I used to go to all the time. I loved the food there, and the woman who ran the restaurant was like my fairy godmother. She got the sense for what a bad time I was going through, and she'd watch Henry sometimes while I'd go to class or just so I could get out for a walk to the Alhambra and clear my head. She taught me this dish, but I've never made it since then… before tonight."

Emma smiled warmly at Regina. _This woman_.

She took a bite and couldn't help the moan that escaped her mouth.

"Oh my god. That's incredible. Mmm, Regina. You're amazing. You've been holding out on me."

Regina took a bite and nodded happily at the food.

"That's yummy. I wasn't holding out on you. It just hasn't come up yet. I don't think about it too much now, honestly, but I used to be a very promising chef," Regina said, wistfully enough that Emma decided to drop it.

Instead, she went back to moaning at her delicious dinner, oblivious to the impact this was having on Regina, who was watching her closely, an eyebrow quirked in fascination. Emma finally caught on and laughed.

"Sorry. It's just really good. So, you speak Spanish then?"

"Si. Yo puedo hablar muy bien Español."

Emma took another sip of her wine, looking across at Regina from under her eyelashes.

"Say something to me. I mean, you know, say something else."

Regina looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and once again Emma wished she could be a fly on the wall of this woman's brain so she could be privy to her most private thoughts.

"Ok then. No tienes idea de lo hermosa que eres sin ningún tipo de esfuerzo. Quiero tomarte en mis brazos y nunca dejarte ir."

Emma felt a chill run through her, and she shuddered visibly.

"What did you say to me?"

"I promise to tell you before the night is over."


	6. Chapter 6

They had to get their sexy on sometime. Right people? Talk to me. Oh and happy Halloween!

* * *

They ate dinner animately talking about Regina's experience living in Granada and Emma's trip to Napa while Emma shamelessly finished everything on her plate. They cleared the table together and washed a few dishes before Regina moved them back to the family room and opened a fresh bottle of wine.

Once they had snuggled into the couch, Regina snuck a glance at Emma, who had grown a little quiet. The blonde had taken off her boots and was sitting in the corner of the leather coach with her legs tucked under her, picking at the seam of her sweater. Regina reached out and grabbed the busied hand, sandwiching it between her own and then tugged to get Emma to look up at her.

"Hey, are you still with me, blondie?"

"Yes, I'm here," Emma said in a small voice.

"How about this? I'll admit something to you if you tell me what's on your mind?"

"Mmm, that seems fair."

"Ok, well, this is a little embarrassing, but I haven't been with anyone in a very long time."

"Like, how long?"

Regina closed her eyes, willing the courage to form more words, Emma thought.

"It's been four years since I've really been intimate with anyone, and it's been even longer since I've been with someone I really cared for," Regina said, breathing out a sigh.

Emma flipped their hands so hers was on top, and she soothed her thumb across Regina's wrist.

"Thank you for telling me that. I have two questions," Emma said, waiting for Regina to nod her agreement before continuing. "Have you not wanted to be with anyone or just too busy to really think about it, or…"

"I think after losing what felt like the one person who ever really got me, despite whatever wasn't perfect in our relationship, part of me just sort of… went into hibernation. I didn't have the desire to date or go out looking for love. And I had Henry and my work, and I guess I thought that was enough."

"Was it?" Emma asked gently.

"No. It seems it wasn't. I was lonely. But I think I knew I'd feel even more alone being with someone who wasn't the real thing. I wasn't looking for a warm body to fill the role of my partner. I think I needed someone to redefine the role. And _that_ _'_ _s_ not so easy to find," Regina said, appraising green eyes to see if she'd said too much.

"You said you had a second question."

"No, uh, you answered all my questions. Thank you for telling me that."

"Ok, well, now it's your turn. What gives? What's happening in there," Regina said, gesturing to Emma's head and letting her hand fall into a princess curl and gently rake her fingers through it.

"I hope this won't make you think less of me. But it's just, I guess I'm kind of pinching myself because it's hard for me to believe someone like you would be interested in someone like me. And I'm not fishing for a compliment here, and I don't want to sound pathetic, but you asked me what I was thinking. And that's what was in my head. I just, you are so sophisticated, and you have all this, and you're kind of made-for-TV-beautiful, and I'm…me. I'm just trying to figure it out," Emma said, fighting the urge to cover her eyes.

Regina was quiet, and Emma was sure she'd blown it, her words to Ruby bouncing around her head.

But them Regina lifted their still-joined hands and kissed her knuckles.

"I'm fighting off the urge to be hurt, for feeling like you're underestimating me, but I really do understand. I know I still have so much to learn about you, and you have so much to learn about me, but one thing you need to know right now is that all this," she said, waving her hands around her, "means absolutely nothing. When you're alone, you're alone, and none of this will protect you from that. And I learned that from a very young age, which is how I think I ended up with Daniel in the first place. I wanted out of this life because I saw how superficial it was. I wanted to be with someone who saw me for me, not my family's money or anything else."

Emma nodded, feeling a little abashed.

"That makes perfect sense. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Regina shook her head.

"You didn't. As far as you're concerned, Emma, you may not have grown up in a traditional home with the kind of wealth and overindulgence that I did, but I can tell you that it takes more than genetics to be a cultured and sophisticated person. Just because you're rich doesn't mean you're generous, and just because you have a family doesn't mean you're loved and supported. Sometimes things aren't what they seem."

"You may not be refined in a traditional sense, but you are passionate, intelligent, educated, not to mention street smart. And those happen to be qualities I value more than status or refinery. Plus, there's one more thing," she said, dragging a hand down her cheek. "You make me feel something I have not felt in… maybe ever."

"Before, in the kitchen, what I said to you," Regina said softly, meeting Emma's eyes and taking a deep breath. "It means, 'You have no idea how effortlessly beautiful you are or how much I want to take you in my arms and never let you go.'"

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the power of Regina's words and confessions—her raw honesty about her feelings—surging through her like warm water in her veins. The words tumbled around in her head like clothes in a dryer, but before she could let herself overthink them or douse them with insecurities, she found both of Regina's hands and met her eyes.

"Well, you better do it then," Emma said, as a slow smile creeping across her face and up to her eyes.

Regina pulled her close, wrapped her arms tightly around Emma, and dug her nose into the snuggly spot where her neck and shoulder met. Regina breathed her in, feeling slightly emotionally winded.

"Closer," Emma whispered, pulling Regina flush against her so their bodies met at their bellies and their breasts. And the air between them began to thicken and heat, going from caring and sweet to sensual and rapturous in a hair's breath.

"Emma, I badly want to kiss you, but I'm afraid if I do, I won't be able to stop myself from doing more," Regina said, her fingertips tickling the skin at the base of Emma's spine.

The blonde pulled back, just enough to look at Regina's face. She drew her hand up to her face, ghosting her forefinger along the groove of the scar on Regina's lip.

"How did you get this scar? Emma said, words drawn and slow.

"When I was a girl, I was holding my cat in the back yard. She was a mean old cat named Maleficent who only liked me. The neighbor's dog, Pongo, attacked her, and I got caught in the middle."

Emma nodded minutely, continuing to touch the scar with the pad of her finger.

"Regina. Kiss me. And don't stop."

"Are you sure you're ready for—"

Emma surged in, capturing the brunette's full lips in breathless kiss. She swept her tongue into Regina's mouth, and they just luxuriated in each other's mouths, losing themselves in long, sensual kisses that left them gasping for air and struggling to think coherent thoughts.

"Whatever this is," Emma said, standing up and pulling Regina off the couch with her, "I'm ready for it."

"OK," Regina said, her face fixed with a crooked smile and wide eyes.

* * *

She guided Emma upstairs, down the hall, and into the master suite, flicking on a desk lamp. Emma noticed that the room wasn't as perfectly choreographed as the rest of the house, as though Regina didn't spend much time in there. It was hued with warm, creamy colors, adorned with a huge, shaker-style four-poster bed with a thick slate blue duvet.

Regina perched gently against the bed and beckoned Emma from her spot at the doorway. The blonde moved toward her, the blood surging in her ears, arousal already making it hard to focus. When she reached her, she laced their fingers together and pushed in for another kiss.

They pulled apart and looked into each other's eyes.

"Regina, I'm nervous," she confessed with a small laugh. "It's been a long time for me too, and I'm…"

Emma pulled one of their woven hands to her chest and splayed Regina's fingers across her breast bone so she could feel her pounding heart. Regina mimicked her action so Emma's hand laid across her chest, recording the same high-paced thrum.

"Do you still want to do this?" Regina said softly, no edges in her voice.

Emma nodded.

"I can't think of ever wanting anything more."

She planted one knee next to Regina's right thigh and the other by her left and kissed her soundly. She was sure she'd never felt softer lips on hers. And then Regina's tongue was in her mouth, and it was dizzying. The brunette began to kiss and nip her way down the column of Emma's slender throat, pulling tiny sighs and moans from her.

Emma could feel Regina's fingertips at the hem of her sweater, itching to do something.

"Take it off," Emma told her.

Regina gripped the sweater more firmly, tugging it over Emma's head, and tossed it on the floor. Suddenly, Regina slid Emma off her and stood, pulling off her own sweater in the process. She then reached down and unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down her body. She helped Emma out of her jeans too, until they were both standing in just their bra and panties.

The brunette reached back and unhooked her own bra, letting it slide down her arms and fall to the floor, and Emma did the same.

They stood there for a moment without touching, and Regina plied her body was a reverent gaze, which was almost too intense to take.

"Emma, you are so incredibly beautiful."

"So are you."

"Can I…" Regina breathed, an arm raising of its own volition.

"Touch me, Regina."

The brunette started a finger at Emma's shoulder and trailed it lightly down her arm. Then she began again, this time at the center of her collarbone and dragged it across her body. Then she brought her other hand up, this time using the pads of her fingers and letting them roam from her neck down to the swell of her breast until she got to the nipple and met Emma's eyes as she touched it.

Emma sucked in an audible breath—she was sure she had never felt or experienced anything this intimate in her life, and it was making her feel vulnerable and overheated.

"Are you ok?" Regina whispered, cutting through the sexual tension that was coming to a rolling boil.

"Yes," Emma said in a puff of air. "Are you?"

"Mmm, yes."

Emma looked so young and beautiful, tugging her lip between her teeth nervously, that Regina surged in to take her in her arms. The hug was meant to be fierce and protective, but now their naked bodies touched at their thighs, stomachs, and breasts, and the heat was just too much. Emma attacked Regina's mouth, and they kissed passionately, their tongues slipping into each other's mouths.

Emma started to kiss and suck and Regina's neck under her ear and latched her lips at her pulse point, coaxing sexy breaths and sounds from the woman. Regina took a few steps to the bed and gently pushed at Emma's shoulders, signaling for her to lay down. She climbed onto the bed and laid down next to her. Emma wanted so badly for Regina to climb on top of her, to feel the soft heat of her skin covering her, but Regina knew that would intensify and speed up their first time together.

Instead she resumed feeling Emma, mapping out her body, first with her fingers and hands and then with her mouth and tongue, working the blonde into a frenzy. She pinched her nipples, licked down her tummy, squeezed her ass, tickled her ribs, nipped at her neck, memorizing Emma by using her eyes, fingers, and mouth to learn her. Time seemed lost to Emma as Regina discovered her—it was maddening and delicious all at once, and she could ever remember being as present in the moment as she was with in these timeless moments between them.

But when Regina started sucking intently on her left nipple, her hand stroking at her right hip bone, and Emma felt her arousal pooling between her legs, and that's when she reached her limit.

"Regina, come here," she said, pulling her on top of her.

Their bodies fit together, felt so warm, and Emma wanted to be under this woman forever, she thought. She cupped Regina's face and kissed her, trying to convey everything she felt.

Regina reached her hand between their bodies and slip her fingers into her wetness, and they both gasped.

"You feel so good, Emma. God. It's…."

"Amazing," Emma said.

For several minutes, Regina just touched her there, swirling her fingers, learning what she liked most, until Emma was making incoherent sounds, whimpering, and whispering Regina's name. Regina entered her with two fingers, and Emma clenched her eyes shut and tipped her head back, her blonde curls splayed across the pillow, and the sight was impossibly sexy.

"Emma, open your eyes. Stay with me."

Green eyes fluttered open, locking on Regina's.

"I'm here," Emma said between staccato breaths.

Then Regina began pulling her fingers out and pushing them back in with conviction, grazing her thumb across her clit. Emma knew she couldn't last. It had been too long and this felt too good, her walls already clenching and grabbing at Regina's fingers. The brunette could see Emma was fighting to hold out, her jaw slightly fixed and her abs so tight.

"Just relax. Let me make you feel good. I want you to cum."

Emma sighed, giving her body permission to climax.

"Oh God, Regina. That feels… Holy shit!"

Regina held her steady, watching transfixed as Emma came, her body twitching and shuddering before falling back limply.

When she was completely relaxed, Regina snuggled into her body languidly. Emma tried to reverse their positions, but Regina wouldn't give any ground. She was so worked up and she badly needed release, but looking at Emma so open, so relaxed, she knew nothing could feel better than just being close to her right now. In this moment, Emma felt like hers.

"Regina, I want to make you feel good too."

"You will," she said, burrowing further into Emma's body. "You will. We have all night."


	7. Chapter 7

Second half of their night together. Thanks for all the amazing feedback. Love writing for you guys.

* * *

"You must have some squeaky gears in there because I think I can actually _hear_ you thinking," Regina said with the throaty laugh that made the hairs on Emma's arms stand up. "I am supposed to have blown your mind so thoroughly that you are just a gooey limp noodle in my arms."

Emma shifted in her grasp, prying her head off Regina's shoulder and propping up on her own elbow to look at the brunette, who was looking all too satisfied with herself.

"First of all, eww," Emma said in a raspy voice, scrunching up her nose. "I can't think of any image less sexy than a limp noodle. So thanks for that. And you absolutely _did_ short-circuit my brain. But at some point in the last few minutes someone must have pounded on the fuse box. I seem to be able to form coherent thoughts once again."

"Mmm, well I guess that's good. I don't want to render such a promising young chef brain dead after our first time together. People would start thinking I'm some kind of evil sorceress," Regina said with a crooked grin. But then her faced turned more serious. "But what are you thinking about?"

"I guess I'm just lying here trying to fill in so many of the gaps—all the things I want to know about you. Like what do you love to do? How did you learn to write like that? What made you choose Granada? What are you and Henry laughing about in that picture in the den? Did you have any help raising him?"

"I can see how you're looking at me right now, Miss Mills, but you should feel honored that you piqued my interest so completely. However, I can be persuaded to wait to find out the answers to some of those questions," Emma said with a warm smile. But then she narrowed her eyes. "But there's one pressing issue, one that I need the answer to immediately. In the interest of a healthy relationship built on trust…"

Emma began to shift down Regina's body, kissing her way down her neck and chest, swiping at a nipple, and dipping her tongue into her belly button.

"Emma?"

"Mmm?" the blonde said, pulling off Regina's black lack thong and sliding it down her legs.

"You didn't tell me what the question was," the brunette said, propping up on her elbows to watch Emma's descent.

Emma had already insinuated her body between Regina's legs and was mid-lick to a creamy thigh. Then, with green eyes aimed up at brown, she whispered into her, "I think you know," and then set about dipping a tongue between her lips, circling her clit and breathing her in.

Regina's eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a rumbling, raspy moan. She forked a hand into Emma's hair, in part to pull it back out of her eyes but also to ground herself into the blonde. Emma gripped her thighs more fully and pulled them back so Regina was spread wide open for her, then licked fully up and down her exposed sex.

Feasting on this woman was beyond sexy. She looked up at her body, which was tight and toned but also soft and feminine. Her scent, the tang of her sex mixed with lavender and vanilla was delicious. And the sounds, these breathy moans and raspy whimpers, went right to her core. All of it made Emma lightheaded. So she focused more intently on her task, pleasuring her with tenacious dedication, letting out sporadic moans into her flesh, which left Regina to absorb the vibrations, pushing her closer to a careening climax.

Regina was shuddering, and Emma could see she was close. She sucked her clit fully into her mouth and released one of her thighs so she could slip two fingers—then three—inside her, thrusting with purpose in and out of her.

"Emma! Oh god. Uh!" Emma continued to finger her until Regina relaxed, her head falling back onto the pillows, her arms boneless at her sides. The blonde released her and moved back up, this time laying fully on top of her and nuzzling her neck. Emma looks down at Regina, and she was so freaking beautiful, her cheeks flushed, hair mussed, and breath fast. She was trembling slightly, and her lips were full and kissed bruised, and Emma could feel herself sinking into her.

"Emma. I can't believe… how much I want you. I've never—"

"I know. Neither have I," she told her.

"No. I'm not sure you know. You make me want to do everything at once. I…I…"

"What? What do you want?"

"I want to fuck you. And I want you fuck me. I want to ravage you. Make love to you. Sleep with you."

Her words were etched with want as she breathed Emma in and licked over her lips, and that made Emma's blood burn. Her own mouth was suddenly filled with sand. She realized with the suddenness of a car crash that she wanted all of that too, and it left her whiplashed.

Emma dove in and fit their mouths together, and when their lips touch, Regina tasting herself for the first time, the electricity sparked dangerously. But Emma didn't want it to stop. Regina wound around her, tangling fingers in the hairs at the nape of her neck.

And then it was frenzied, and lips and tongues and fingers were everywhere, indistinguishable, creating currents of sensations that left them moaning and panting and whimpering. Then Emma lifted them into an upright position so they were straddling each other, Emma planting a thigh between Regina's legs, pumping into her body, lightly at first. Then they were riding each other with abandon, limbs woven together and a sheen of sweat forming on Emma's brow.

It was intoxicating. As her orgasm approached, there was nothing else but Regina. And then Emma's body couldn't contain the sensations anymore, and she reached her threshold with an aching, guttural cry, Regina just moments behind her.

They fell back to the bed satiated, muscles gloriously aching, sweat glistening, and remnants of pleasure dampening their skin. Emma turned slightly, burrowing her face in the messy, rich locks of dark hair. Regina just laid there immobilized, fingertips the only body part with permission to move as they scratched at Emma's bicep.

Then a hearty laugh escaped Emma, shot out of a cannon into the air.

"What?" Regina breathed.

"Who's the limp noodle now?" Emma said, surfacing from the drape of hair and meeting her eyes.

Regina suddenly found the energy to move, limbs scurrying over Emma until she was straddling her hips, fingers tickling mercilessly at her ribs.

"Swan! You are so dead!"

* * *

For the first time since Saviors opened, the kitchen was in the weeds, and Emma knew she was to blame. She didn't make it in until almost 2 pm, and even though August had gotten a jump start on the food prep, there wasn't enough time to make enough espresso crusted lamb medallions for big night, and it was killing the now. Emma prided herself in her meticulous planning and prep work, but she was working at half speed.

She had strolled into the restaurant in a daze, tied on her apron, taken half-hearted inventory, and began chopping petite root vegetables at a glacial pace. She was moving so slowly that August told her to switch with him, using the hefty commercial immersion blender to prepare the parsnip puree. She was 16 pounds of parsnips and four sticks of butter in, cheek speckled with parsnip splatter, and all she could think about was waking up in Regina's bed locked in her arms just seven hours earlier.

It had been hours before they had fallen asleep, gaining confidence over the course of the night as they grew more comfortable with each other and discovered each other's bodies. Regina joked that between them they had more orgasms in one night than either of them had experienced in their entire lives, and it wasn't that far from the truth. But the chemistry and mutual attraction (and the mind-blowing sex) was only part of the night's magic.

Around 1 am, their bodies utterly spent, they had settled into each other—Regina's body wrapped protectively around Emma's—and talked softly, long into the night. Regina asked Emma about being raised in the foster system, and Emma shared more with her than she'd told almost anyone.

It broke Regina's heart, thinking of Emma growing up thinking she was unworthy of love. As Emma told one particularly heart-wrenching story of being the only child not selected by potential adoptive parents during a "Showcase Sunday," Regina subconsciously tightened her grip around the blonde, picturing a tiny 8-year-old Emma, fingers nervously twisting her pigtails and wide green eyes filled with tears.

Regina shared some of her own demons, telling a few horror stories of Cora Mills and how she'd convinced Regina after Daniel's death that love was a weakness, a mantra that had stayed with her long after she'd made peace with his passing. Emma cringed as she listened, knowing all too well the emptiness that comes with believing that love is a fairytale, something that's out of reach.

As Regina talked about Cora, Emma combed her fingers gently through her hair, hoping to counteract the pain of the memories with the tiniest bit of affection.

But Regina also told about a horse named Rocinante and explained how riding became her escape, a secret passion that one a few people knew about. She described the freeing feeling she felt when she was riding him at top speed—it was the only time in her life she could ever recall letting her guard down so completely.

Emma had let a hand drape across her breast and sweep carelessly across her tummy. _Is your guard down now_? she wondered, too afraid to ask the words out loud. Although they came from such opposite backgrounds, Emma marveled that they had both spent a significant portion of their lives feeling alone and unloved. But in Regina's bed in the middle of the night, being together like this was cathartic.

Emma's eyes grew heavy around 2:30, and Regina ghosted a tiny row of kisses along her shoulder and nuzzled her face into the nape of her neck.

"Good night, Emma."

"No," Emma whispered. "I can't fall asleep."

"Why not? _Sleep_ ," Regina said.

"What if this has all been a dream?"

Suddenly Emma felt sharp teeth on the fleshy part of her shoulder, and she yelped, as Regina gave her a tiny (but painful) bite.

"Ow! What the fuck, Regina?" Emma said, turning her head to scowl at the grinning brunette.

"I wanted you to be sure it wasn't a dream," she said, kissing and soothing the reddened mark. She cuddled Emma back into her arms and resumed their big-spoon/little-spoon configuration.

"You convinced me, geez," Emma grumbled, closing her eyes and relaxing her body once again.

"Sleep sweet girl," Regina whispered against her, and those were the last words she heard before she slipped into unconsciousness.

And even as the kitchen ran out of the lamb special and she could feel August's frustrated eyes burning a hole into the back of her head, she didn't regret how late they slept in or that they'd had sex again when they woke up. She wouldn't take away the Eggs Benedict she'd made for Regina or the long, lazy kisses they'd shared in the doorway as Emma tried to say goodbye. She couldn't ever remember feeling happier or more alive, and not even an unsatisfied customer or an angry sous chef was going to take her out of her blissful moment.

She glanced over at August. He had salvaged the night by pulling together a braised ground lamb in a white-wine broth over Provençal artichokes barigoule. But that meant he also had license to glower at her for the rest of the night, although in the fog of her Regina afterglow, she hardly noticed.

But as she hustled from table to table in Saviors' dining room, offering apologies to the customers for the slow service in the form of complimentary rosemary biscuits and her favorite dessert—Dates à la mode—she was able to avoid the brain-on-fire mode she felt sure was inevitable.

The craze quelled, and by 10:30 the restaurant was almost empty. Emma thanked the staff for bearing with her and sent the majority of them home (especially August), leaving her with just a dishwasher and busser, who she paid extra to help get the place back to order. And once they left, the glasses shelved, menus wiped down, salt and peppers filled, and the night's returns recorded, it was finally quiet.

And that's when the tsunami of questions finally came. _What was this with Regina_? _What would happen next_? _How would David react_? _Was it too soon to ask her to be her girlfriend_? _Had it meant as much to Regina as it had to her_?

As midnight approached, she opened a bottle of wine, poured herself a glass, grabbed her leather jacket, and walked outside, letting the sound of the lapping water soothe her unsettled mind. The further she got from her night with Regina, the more the doubt began to creep in, and she wondered if she had just unwittingly opened herself up to a huge rejection.

She slid her white chef beanie off her head, tossing it with intent down at the table. She hated feeling so weak and so unsure of herself. That's why she loved being in the kitchen—her sanctuary, and the one place where she never had to question her worthiness. She _knew_ she could cook, and her instincts rarely let her down. But matters of the heart? _Fuck_. She was that 8-year-old with pigtails again, and it killed her.

Her phone buzzed in her apron, pulling from the spiral of self-doubt. She reached in and grabbed it, the screen lit with a series of texts.

 **Regina:** You finished yet?

 **Regina:** I'm cold.

 **Regina:** Come be my blanket.

And, just like that, she felt better.

 **Emma:** What about Henry?

 **Regina:** He leaves for school before I even get up most mornings.

 **Emma:** Is this a booty call?

 **Regina:** I guess you'll have to come over and find out.

 **Emma:** Will I seem easy if I say yes?

 **Regina:** Not to me.

 **Emma:** See you in a few.

Emma pocketed her phone and smiled. _I_ _'_ _m such a goner_.


	8. Chapter 8

I honestly can't thank you enough for your feedback. It's making me want to write this story when I should be writing things that I'm actually paid to do. So I blame you.

* * *

Regina practically attacked Emma before she was fully inside the door of the mansion. She pulled her in and kissed her soundly, hands grasping under the loose ponytail at the back of her neck, drawing her closer. Once she recovered from the surprise of the body on hers, Emma reached up and planted her thumbs at Regina's ears, letting her fingers wrap around the crown of her head. She let herself be kissed, pliant to Regina's lips, marveling at how good it felt to be wanted so much by this woman.

"You smell like restaurant," Regina mumbled into her lips.

"Mm sorry. If I had showered before I came over, you would have been asleep by the time I got here. Do you mind if I use yours?"

"Don't mind at all. Did you eat anything tonight?"

"Uh, I had a forkful of roasted Brussels sprouts and some wine."

"That's not dinner," Regina said, kissing down the column of her slender neck.

"We were slammed," Emma said, nuzzling further into Regina's kiss.

"You go shower. I'm going to feed you," the brunette said, pushing Emma up the stairs. "There are clean towels in the closet of my bathroom."

Emma climbed the stairs but watched Regina disappear into the kitchen in her cornflower blue silk pajamas. _So cute_.

She walked into Regina's bedroom and sat on the bed to take off her shoes and socks. The duvet was pulled back slightly, a book forgotten in the vacant spot. Emma reached out and turned it over, taking in the title, _Blood, Bones, & Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef_, a memoir by James Beard award winner Gabrielle Hamilton, a restaurant owner and chef in New York. Emma's eyebrows shot up, and she inserted a mental bookmark in her mind to bring this up at some point later.

She took off her clothes, neatly folding them and placing them on the bench in front of the bed, and walked into the en suite bathroom. She turned on the water, waited for it to get hot, and stepped into the oversized shower.

Emma loved a hot shower—she would lose herself in the steam and heat, and sometimes she got her best menu ideas just luxuriating under the water. She began to lather her body with brunette's expensive vanilla and lavender shower soap, closing her eyes and turning to face up to the spray. She shampooed and conditioned her hair and let all the tension of the day just slip down the drain.

Emma suddenly felt eyes on her, and she snapped to attention, peering out of the foggy glass doors. Regina stood just a few feet from the shower, watching Emma with rapt attention.

"Hi?" Emma said.

"Sorry to interrupt you. I just came in to make sure you had everything you needed," Regina said, somewhat timidly.

Emma wipe the fog from the glass door with her hand, giving Regina full view of her tantalizingly toned body.

"Actually, there's one thing I still need," Emma said, opening the door and reaching out to grab Regina's wrist and unceremoniously pull her into the shower with her, fully dressed, resulting in a high-pitched squeal from the brunette.

"Emma!" she yelled, shooting her an evil glare and holding her sopping wet pajama sleeves out in front of her in disgust.

"What?" Emma said, offering her most innocent smile. "You asked me if I needed anything. I do. I need you to take these off. Here, let me help you."

She unbuttoned Regina's pajama shirt and slid the wet material off her shoulders, letting it land with a heavy slap on the shower floor. Then she grabbed the waistband of her pants and pulled them down, letting them pool at her feet and kicking them to the side.

Emma immediately collected Regina into her arms, groaning at how good it felt to have her there, their wet skin coalescing. Her body was so lithe and so smooth, and she never wanted to let her go. She burrowed her head into her neck and began to suck and kiss under her ear. Without doing anything demonstrative, just by _being_ , everything about Regina seemed to compel Emma to open herself further, to come closer, to be braver.

"Emma," Regina whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing. I, nothing."

" _Tell_ me," Emma said over the echo of the spray, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. "I wish I could read you better. But you can tell me what's on your mind."

"This is… I'm scared," Regina said in voice so small Emma could hardly believe she was ever intimated by her. Naked, washed free of make up, and with her hair wet and pushed back from her face, Regina looked so young, so vulnerable, and it made Emma want to protect her.

"Come here," Emma said, pulling her in even tighter, rubbing soothing circles at the small of her back, hooking her chin over Regina's shoulder. "I don't know what this is, but I feel it, too. We are out on the limb together, and I'm scared, too."

"You are?"

"God, yes. I've never felt anything like this."

With that, Regina smiled and tilted her head to brush Emma's lips with her own, quickly deepening the kiss and cupping her face in her hands reverently. Emma let out a tiny little whimper, but Regina heard it, and the mood turned from soft and uncertain to sensual and needy in a flash.

Regina pushed Emma against the wall, pinning her body with her own. She began to touch Emma with intention, sliding her hands up her sides and cupping her breasts. She pinched her nipples and then ducked down to capture one in her mouth, sliding her tongue around it before sinking her teeth into the flesh, prying a sharp cry and then a moan out of Emma.

Then she switched to the other breast, first nibbling teasingly and then once again biting down with a little more force.

"You _like_ that," Regina said into her sternum.

"Yesss," Emma hissed.

"What else do you like?" Regina asked, kissing her way down Emma's torso, curling her fingers around her hips to hold her in place.

Emma looked down at Regina, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight. She opened her mouth to say something, snapping her jaw shut again as she tried to power her brain.

The brunette was on her knees in front of her, kissing and licking across her public bone, looking up at her with curious, wanting eyes. Emma had a few romantic relationships, but nothing to prepare her for this, for the emotional and sexual connection that had enveloped them. It was dangerous, she thought. Like cooking food on such high heat—it's fast and deliciously hot, but it's easy to burn.

"Do you like _this_?" Regina asked, lifting one of Emma's legs and sucking on the skin of her inner thigh. Emma nodded mutely. She repeated the action to the other thigh, keeping her eyes locked on Emma's.

"What about _this_?" she said with increasing lasciviousness. She nuzzled her nose squarely into Emma's center and slung a long, slender leg over her shoulder and began to slide her tongue up and down her slit.

"Yes, I like that," Emma said softly.

Regina smiled against her and took her clit fully into her mouth and used her free hand to sink two fingers all the way into her in a fluid motion. Emma inhaled sharply, her head knocking back against the shower wall with a thud. The sound propelled Regina, and she stood to get leverage, pumping into Emma with force that brought her up on her toes.

Regina looked Emma directly in the eyes, their faces just an inch apart, and continued to thrust into her.

"Emma," she said, the timbre in her voice turning Emma's blood hot, "Do you like it when I fuck you _hard_?"

"Oh god," Emma said. "Yes. Don't stop doing it."

"I won't stop," Regina said, adding a third finger and using a thigh to add power behind her. "I want you to be mine."

At those six words, Emma came, her body spasming and shivering delightfully under Regina, then falling limply in her arms, the intensity of the emotional and physical assault leaving her boneless. Regina kept her propped up, letting Emma tuck her face into her neck, panting intermittently.

"That was, holy shit, Regina… What did you do to me?"

Regina laid a simple kiss on Emma's lips.

"I showed you how much I want you," she said, once again shocking Emma at how willing she was to peel back the veneer and be vulnerable.

A wide smile crossed Emma's face, pinching at Regina's heart.

"Lets dry off. I have something to show you, too," she said.

* * *

At 2 am, they laid in Regina's bed, sated, their hair beginning to dry, their muscles weary from the effort of orgasms and hours energetic sex, and Emma's stomach growled loudly, making them erupt into giggles.

"You never ate your dinner," Regina said, nodding to the plate of na'an and artisanal cheeses she'd brought up hours earlier. "You must be starving."

"I am, but I want to stay here with you. Is that ok, if I stay?"

"I'm not letting you go anywhere, even if your stomach wakes me up," Regina said, curling up behind Emma and wrapping her arms around her. "I have to leave early for a story planning meeting in Boston tomorrow, so just help yourself to anything in the morning and lock the door whenever you leave."

"Ok. How long will you be up there?"

"Just for the day. Twice a month I go up there so they can see my face. I've tried Skype, but it's always hard to hear them, so this is just easier."

"Can I see you again soon?"

"I'm reviewing a new restaurant called Gold's tomorrow across town, and I usually have to file that same night. But then I'm pretty free. Would you want to come over on Sunday night and make dinner with Henry and I?"

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Ok, I can definitely do that."

"Perfect. Now quiet that stomach down because I need my evil beauty rest," Regina said, offering a kiss to Emma's shoulder and tightening her grip around her.

"Good night, Your Evilness."

"Good night."

—

Around 10 am Emma woke up hugging Regina's pillow to her body. She looked around, smiling when she remembered where she was and the details of the night before. She blushed recalling what happened in the shower, but smiled when she replayed Regina's words. _I want you to be mine._

Emma wasn't 100 percent sure what she meant by that, but she couldn't wait to find out. She got up, made the bed carefully, and got dressed, heading downstairs to make herself some breakfast. There was a note folded on the counter with EMMA on the front in thick black ink in handwriting that she mused was better suited for a Medieval sorcerer.

She opened the note, which read, in the same script font:

 _EDITOR_ _'_ _S NOTE:_

 _Dear Reader,_

 _Since my recent review of SAVIORS restaurant, I have learned a few things about Chef Emma Swan that may or may not be relevant to your dining pleasure should you choose to visit her establishment. But in the interests of journalistic integrity, I feel obliged to inform you of the following._

 _In addition to being incredibly kind hearted and bearing the kind of integrity that is typically reserved for fairytale archetypes, Chef Swan is also sensational in bed. She_ _'_ _s effortlessly sexy and giving in every sexual encounter, and I speak from personal experience. Why is this important, you may ask? Because as I was in the middle of my third orgasm last night, I thought,_ screw her food _, although it_ _'_ _s inarguably sensational. This woman is amazing, and frankly, I want to keep her all to myself. So I plan to ask her to be my girlfriend, and I ask you, dear reader, for any suggestions you may have as to the best way to approach this, as I worry that it may be much to soon to ask for a serious commitment. I hope this is not too personal a request, but for something as important as winning the heart of such an incredible, devastatingly beautiful woman, sometimes it_ _'_ _s best to do a little group think. Wish me luck._

 _Regina Mills,_

 _Boston Globe Food Critic_

Emma stood there, frozen, reading the letter again and again, swooning. She folded the letter, put it in her pocket, and found a clean piece of paper in a drawer. Using the same pen Regina had used, she began to write.

 _Dear Miss Mills,_

 _First I want to commend you on your honesty. It_ _'_ _s rare to find a writer today who is so willing to share their personal life so openly. I_ _'_ _ve given this some serious thought, and I wanted to offer you this bit of insight. From what you_ _'_ _ve said, although Chef Emma Swan is prone to be emotionally closed off, you seem to be able to reach her in a way that no one else ever has. She_ _'_ _s probably terrified of that but is willing to push past her fear_ _…_ _for you, with you. So I suggest you pick out a favorite bottle of pinot noir_ _—_ _it_ _'_ _s said that you have impeccable taste in red wine_ _—_ _pour two glasses, take a big drink, and ask her to be yours. I suspect she will say yes and only curse herself that she hadn_ _'_ _t been courageous enough to ask you first._

 _PS: I_ _'_ _m a huge fan of your work, although sometimes I think you_ _'_ _re a little tough on those poor chefs. They_ _'_ _re trying, man._

 _Sincerely,_

 _An avid reader_

Emma folded the note, writing REGINA on the fold in her small, fine print. She walked toward the front door, slung her bag around her shoulder, locked the door, and headed off to work feeling lighter and happier than she could ever remember.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks again for all the love on this story. Enjoy.

* * *

Emma threw herself back into work with gusto, out of necessity, but also to quiet her mind. With the new restaurant, Gold's, opening across town, August was relieved to have Emma's full attention again. He knew he could handle the kitchen, but Emma had a head for the business side of the restaurant, and August hated all that stuff.

Plus, despite Emma's feelings about Regina's review of Saviors, it had garnered attention, and it had piqued the public's curiosity. Now people were driving from 20 miles away to check it out, and they had to make sure they liked what they saw and tasted.

She was putting the final touches on the weekend menu when August tossed the Food section of the _Boston Globe_ in front of Emma and pointed at Regina's latest review.

"Looks like her Evil Highness is back to crushing the hearts of aspiring chefs everywhere," August said with a smirk.

 _IT_ _'_ _S PLENTY RICH, BUT GOLD_ _'_ _S IS SOULLESS_

 _by Regina Mills_

 _Boston Globe Food Critic_

 _I was not going to be thrown off course by the famed (read: notorious) gold teeth or the acrid reputation that preceded the owner and head chef of the self-named and highly anticipated Gold_ _'_ _s. And while the staff was impeccably dressed and no piece of cutlery dare be askew or finished food sit unattended on a tabletop for a fraction of a second, the experience of dining at Gold_ _'_ _s feels empty and, ultimately, forgettable._

 _If you would have asked me to close my eyes and imagine what a four-course $172 prix fixe format would feature, I would have guessed foie gras, sea scallops, lamb medallions, and a creme br_ _û_ _l_ _é_ _e. And I would have been correct on two out of four. But instead of the sea scallops, Mr. Gold's menu offered_ _wagyu and_ _Kobe beef tartar_ _e_ _,_ _prepared tableside, with f_ _ried Malpeque oysters_ _, which were smothered in a wildly rich_ _lobster b_ _é_ _arnaise._ _It was decadent and delicious but the richness of the food as a second course just about made me forget anything else I ate._

 _For dessert, the chocolate torte was created from a blend of 28 cocoas from round the world and decorated with edible gold florets. It was indeed delicious_ _—_ _heavenly really_ _—_ _but almost offensive given that the restaurant is located about six miles from the county_ _'_ _s most populated homeless shelter. Have we really gotten to the point that we need to eat gold in order to feel good about our stature and to prove our collective_ _manhood?_

 _If you eat at Gold_ _'_ _s, you will eat well, but I make no promises for what will happen to your soul after the fact._

Emma felt a shiver run through her. The review was satisfying, and Regina became, impossibly, even more desirable to her. But Emma also worried for her and for how little regard she seemed to have over making enemies out of some really powerful chefs, even in her own back yard.

Emma knew a little bit about Mr. Gold. His reputation was sinister. In fact, there was a rumor about a local rival of Gold's whose restaurant had been plagued with a series of incredibly unlucky circumstances (a roach infestation and a case of Mad Cow disease that was somehow tracked back to his establishment by an anonymous source), which had effectively put him out of business and ruined his reputation.

If Gold was in fact responsible for ruining someone who did nothing much more to provoke him beyond being the direct competition, Emma wondered how he'd handle a direct takedown like this.

She considered texting Regina and voicing her concern, even in the form of a joke or an Evil Queen jab, but she thought better of it. They hadn't even truly voiced their feelings for each other yet, and they still had so much to learn about one another, it seemed much too soon to put Regina on the defensive. This was Regina's work, and it seemed better to keep church and state completely separate for the time being.

A tug on Emma's ponytail brought her out of her thoughts, back to the here and now. Emma twisted to look over her shoulder, and Ruby gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Hey, Red."

"Ems, you look miles away. You ok?"

Emma had shared some of the details of her encounters with Regina to Ruby, not to be salacious, but because it helped it feel more real if she could share it with her best friend.

She handed Ruby the Food section of the newspaper and gulped down some water while she read, worrying her lip nervously. A moment later, big brown eyes shot up to Emma's.

"Wow. Ems, you found yourself a live one. She's brave as fuck, I'll give her that."

Emma nodded solemnly, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Yeah, I know. She's really something. I just hope he doesn't go after her."

"Well enough of that. She knows what she's doing. This isn't her first rodeo. Lets get to the good stuff. When are you seeing her again?"

"I'm ducking out of here around 6 so I can go over to hers to make dinner with Regina and Henry," Emma said, a small smile finding it's way back onto Emma's face.

"Henry? Her son? Wow. Emma Swan, this is serious. I've never heard you like this. It sounds like you really like her, and vice versa."

Emma reached into her apron and pulled out the letter Regina had written her the other day and handed it to Ruby shyly.

As Ruby read Regina's words, her face split into a huge, brilliant grin.

"No way. Holy shit. Is this woman an extraterrestrial? This is the fucking cutest thing I've ever read. She is totally smitten. Do you… I mean, do you feel the same way?"

Emma nodded.

"I can't even explain it, Rubes. She's gorgeous and so accomplished and sophisticated but also generous and sweet. And when I'm with her I can think of a single other place I'd rather be. The only thing is—and don't take this the wrong way because I'm not doubting myself—I'm still not 100 percent sure what she would want with someone like me, but I'm trying to just put that out of my head and just enjoy it.

Ruby's expression twisted in frustration, and she narrowed her eyes in scrutiny at Emma.

"Someone like you? Ahh, I see what you mean. You mean like an executive chef and restauranteur who came from nothing and owned two restaurants by the time she was 26? Not to mention runway-model gorgeous, self-deprecating, hilarious, loving, and sweet? Yeah, I know what you mean, you're such a dud. I ask myself all the time what I'm doing with someone like you as a best friend. _Loser._ "

Emma chuckled, conceding to Ruby's words with her head bowed.

"That's exactly what Regina said when I brought it up, but it's still hard to make myself believe it. I know it sounds pathetic, but do you have any idea what I mean? Have you ever felt like that?"

"Yes, of course. I totally get it, but I just wish you'd give yourself the credit you deserve. Either way, don't second guess this. You deserve to be happy with someone who sees you and thinks you're the most sensational creature that ever lived. You are, honey. You're special. Be happy, baby girl."

Emma pulled her friend into a hug.

"Working on it, Rubes."

—-

Emma stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror a few hours later, her bug parked in the driveway at Mifflin Street. She put on some chapstick and roughly pushed her hair behind her ears, fingering through it a few times to pull out any knots.

"Why are you nervous, Emma? Maybe because you're a big fat loser who talks to herself in her car?" she said to her reflection, letting her face drop into her hands.

A tap on her car window caused Emma to leap out of her skin, her heart suddenly hammering wildly in her chest. She looked up and peered out the window, a laughing Regina tossing her head back in pure amusement.

Emma opened her door, and Regina offered her a hand pulling her up and into her body, immediately wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing the corner of her mouth.

"Sorry," she mumbled into her cheek. "I didn't actually come out to startle you. "I just wanted to see if you might actually like to come inside instead of sitting out here in the cold. We won't bite."

Emma blushed and bit her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm nervous. I just don't want to mess up I guess."

"Emma, I promise that's not going to happen. Just come in and be with us. That's what we want," Regina said with a reassuring smile, pulling out of the hug and lacing their hands together, leading her gently into the house. Henry was standing in the entryway, and he offered Emma a knowing smile as soon as she crossed the threshold.

"Caught that, huh kid?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. I was trying to look good in front of a girl at soccer today when we were running laps around the field. And I literally crash into one of the goalposts and fell on my butt. So in the scheme of things, you sitting in your car is much less embarrassing."

Emma laughed, instantly disarmed.

"You got me there, I guess. But I am literally the clumsiest person you will ever meet, so we could have an embarrassing story duel, but I've got 11 years on you and about nine extra left feet. You don't want a piece of this," Emma said, feeling suddenly at ease.

Henry laughed and led the way into the kitchen.

"You're right, Mom. She's kind of a big kid," he said, shooting Emma a grin as he disappeared through the door.

When it swung shut, Regina moved in on Emma, steering her to a wall and kissing her longingly. She pulled her lips away but slid her cheek next to Emmas, languishing in the smooth warmth of her skin.

"I missed you. Is that insane? It's only been a few days," Regina confessed, tucking her face into Emma's neck and leaving a row of kisses there.

"Mmm, I missed you too, but I think that means we're both a little crazy. I can't seem to get enough of you," she said, looking getting her first good look at Regina. She was dressed simply in a purple cable knit sweater, black jeans, and boots, and her hair hung loosely across her shoulders. She wore the tiniest bit of lipstick, but otherwise her face was pristine. And just so beautiful. Emma just let her eyes graze, greedily taking in all the loveliness.

Regina offered a slippery sideways smile and raised an eyebrow in question.

"I just… Oh man," Emma fumbled, letting her fingers draw the contours of her face. "You are so gorgeous."

Regina sucked in a breath and picked Emma's hand off her face, kissing the knuckles. Just as with almost every interaction they'd had, Emma once again felt her heart quick, her worries and thoughts fade when Regina was in her personal space.

"You know, there's something I've been meaning to ask you, Emma," Regina said. "I've been wanting to ask you since our first kiss practically, but didn't want to scare you away. But I have it on good authority that you don't scare easily, so I'm going to put on a brave face and just do this."

Emma leaned a little further into her body, trying to encourage her.

"Ok, ask me anything, Regina."

"Emma, I know what you wrote to me. And it was… so sweet. But I do know this is soon. But when we're together—and even when we're not together—I feel so close to you and better than I've felt in a very long time. The thing is, I'm crazy about you. And I want you to be… my girlfriend. I don't want to see anyone else, and I really don't want you to either. I think I'd have to kill them. I just want to be with you. Is that—"

"—Yes," she said, kissing her. "Yes, yes, yes."

Regina's face broke into a 100-watt smile, that brightened her whole face and made Emma's stomach somersaulted. She slid her arms once more around the blonde's waist, and Emma felt a tidal wave of joy as she hugged her. She was wanted. By Regina Mills. And man, she wanted her back.

"Well, now that that's settled, shall we go make dinner with Henry?" she asked brightly, taking Emma's hand in her own.

"Yes, what are we making."

"Nothing fancy, but it's Henry's favorite thing I make. Lasagna. Hope that won't disappoint the chef."

"Impossible."


	10. Chapter 10

For the many people who have pm'd expressing their worry that Emma isn't spending enough time at her job, you're probably right. But what fun would that be? In this chapter, once again, you'll find more sexiness in the bedroom than the kitchen, but I hope that doesn't impact your enjoyment of the story. ;) Thanks for all the amazing feedback. I love hearing from you.

* * *

While Regina worked on the homemade marinara sauce, Emma prepared the chorizo for her "Spicy Latina Lasagna," a name the brunette warned would bring painful retribution if she ever let slip. Emma had solemnly pledged her secrecy, trying to keep a straight face with Henry making faces at her from behind Regina's back.

"You know I have brought down a chef or two for less treasonous offenses, Miss Swan. Don't be fooled by my sweetness toward you. I can be quite ruthless."

Emma grew momentarily serious.

"I know. And I will never betray your trust," she said softly, sealing her promise with a tiny kiss.

So Emma rolled up her sleeves and pulled her hair into a ponytail, and the three of them got to work in the kitchen—Henry mostly in charge of manning the music and setting the table. But Regina and Emma worked together, passing ingredients and offering their own touches on the other's technique that reminded Emma of cooking with just one other person—David. He was the only chef she'd ever shared a kitchen with who could finish her culinary thought without words, orbiting around each other with wordless fluidity as they cooked and plated, perfected and prepared.

And although they were only making lasagna, a simple mixed green salad, and rustic garlic bread, Emma felt as in sync with Regina in the kitchen as she had in the bedroom. Every so often, as they crossed each other's path, their hands would graze or their eyes would meet, and Emma's heart would flutter. While Emma washed a few dishes as they waited for the lasagna to bake, Regina dropped a tiny kiss at the exposed skin behind her ear and whispered a tiny thank you—for the washing dishes, for being there with them, or for agreeing to be her girlfriend, Emma wasn't sure.

They sat in the dining room to eat, Regina wordlessly pouring Emma a glass of a red wine she knew she'd like and Henry telling her more about the girl from school. After shooting his mom fireballs from his eyes when she asked him about it, he grudgingly told them about Violet, the sweet brunette who he insisted wasn't like the other girls at his school who he thought were "kinda lame."

"I hear you, kid, high school girls can be pretty terrible, so if you found a good one, run right on through those goalposts for her. Totally worth it," she said, offering him a warm smile.

They talked with ease through dinner, Henry asking Emma for the inside scoop on being a head chef. She shared a few horror stories of lighting food on fire and nearly cutting off a finger with a boning knife, but mostly she told them about how much excitement she felt in the kitchen, how it was the only thing she'd ever done or experienced that made her feel completely alive. At that, Regina look up, catching Emma's eyes and blushed. _Till now_.

When they finished eating, Henry cleared the plates and excused himself to finish up some homework, and when they heard his door shut, Emma felt a hand on her waist.

"Hi," Emma said, meeting Regina's warm brown eyes.

"Hi there," Regina said. "I"m so glad you're here."

"Me too. Plus, that was without a doubt the best, spicy Latina, um, lasagna, I've ever put in my mouth," she said, waggling her eyebrows at Regina, making her laugh.

"Better not be," Regina said.

"Mmm, might need to test the theory, though, just to be sure," Emma said with a crooked smile.

Regina jumped slightly, her phone buzzing her pocket. She slid it out and looked at the screen, scowling and offering Emma an apologetic glance.

"It's work. There must be an issue with a story. I'm sorry. I have to take this," Regina said.

"Take your time. I'm good," Emma tossed back lightly.

"Regina Mills. Oh, good evening, Robin. What can I do for you? Ok, can you hold on a moment while I get to my computer?"

Regina gave Emma a small wave and hustled into her study. Emma finished cleaning up the kitchen, wiping down the counters and the stove and putting all the dishes away. She took a deep breath, desperately trying not to get ahead of herself. She had to admit she was afraid of how much she wanted this. Like, all of it. The domesticity of the evening. The feeling of having a family. _The woman_. God, she wanted this woman.

Other than the restaurant, she hadn't ever really let herself want anything. And when it came to personal relationships, investing herself in her friends was the closest she'd ever come to really putting herself out there. She suddenly had the sinking feeling that she was unwrapping the careful packaging she'd sealed her heart in so long ago, and a wave of nausea washed over her.

She leaned over the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed a little water on her face. She took a few deep breaths, and just stood there for a moment, turning the water off and trying to settle her mind.

"She's different, you know?" Henry said, his sudden presence in the room making her jump.

Emma whipped around, trying to hide the surprise and bewilderment she was feeling. She raised her eyebrows at him in question.

"What? Who is different?" Emma said, confused.

Henry took a few steps toward her and came to a stop at the island, bending his lanky body over the counter, planting an elbow, and propping his head on his hand. He placed an empty water bottle next to him on a stool and looked at Emma with purpose.

"Mom. She's different with you. Different than I've ever seen her," he said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean? How is she different? I think you're burying the lead here, kid."

He chuckled lightly.

"That's something Mom would say," he muttered. "We've been happy, Mom and I. I mean she loves me and she's been such a great mom, and we've done so many cool things together, just her and I. But I could always feel her sadness—it was, like, right there, you know? But I don't feel it now. It's gone. Not since… you. She's different."

Emma tried to keep her face open, trying not to look as shocked by his admission as she felt. She studied him, and suddenly the weight of what he was saying to her—what he was asking of her—registered fully, and she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Henry, you're worried I'm going to hurt her? I understand that. You're mom is a pretty incredible lady," Emma said, her throat tight. "But just know that I've had a lot of sadness in my life too—a lot of hurt—and if I was lucky enough to have a son like you, I think he would say that I'm different, too… with her. She means a lot to me, Henry, and I'm going to do everything I can to protect that—and her."

She meant every word, she realized, and so it was too late to guard her heart. She was in it now.

Henry's face broke into a close-lipped smile, his eyes twinkling. He was looking at her with such warmth and affection that Emma reached up and smoothed his bangs to the side, letting her hand linger a moment before bashfully pulling it back and stuffing it in her pocket.

"Man, you're gonna kill me, kid."

Henry laughed and twirled a pretend mustache.

"Mah ha ha. That's my evil plan."

Emma let out a bubbly laugh and punched Henry squarely in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Henry yelped, rubbing his shoulder.

"Wimp."

"Hey there, you two," Regina said from the doorway.

Emma's eyes shot up, wondering how much she had seen of their interaction. Regina looked bemused but curious, her eyes darting back and forth from Henry to Emma.

"What did I just walk into?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing," Henry said casually. "I was just getting some water, and now I'm going back to bury myself in the history of Mesopotamia and the Parthian Empire."

"What was the name of the battle in which the Parthians defeated Marcus Licinius Crassus?" Regina volleyed.

"Battle of Carrhae—53 BC," Henry shot back.

"Who led the counterattack?"

"Mark Antony."

"Common art mediums?"

"Rock reliefs and frescos."

"Currency?"

"Greek drachma."

"Good, Henry. Now go write your paper. Eight hundred words doesn't mean Mesopotamia written 800 times."

Henry bounded out the door, brushing Regina's check with a kiss as he passed.

Emma held her ground, suddenly unsure. She hoped she hadn't overstepped her bounds and once again wondered what was happening in the brunette's head. But Regina strode over to her in fluid motions until she had her pinned a hand planted at her sides on the counter. She moved all the way into her, invading her space deliciously. She looked directly into Emma's eyes and brought her lips and nose just a hair's breath away from the blonde's.

"Is everything ok with work?" Emma asked.

"Yes, everything is fine. Just an issue with a previous column. Nothing to worry about."

Emma narrowed her eyes at Regina, but she could tell the topic wasn't up for discussion.

"You two are amazing—you and Henry. I'm not like that with anyone. The way you talk. You guys practically share a brain," Emma said reverently.

"It's been the two of us for a long time. Seems like you and he have taken to each other. I'm not sure what was happening when I walked in, but it was adorable. Henry likes you. What were the two of you talking about?" Regina asked in a more playful tone.

"It's confidential. I could tell you, but then… Well, it wouldn't end well. Empires would fall. Dynasties would crumble," Emma said.

Regina smiled, bemused, raising a sculpted eyebrow.

"Is that so, Chef Swan? What if I could offer you something very valuable in exchange for this top secret information?" Regina said, leaning down to perch her lips at Emma's pulse point and dip a tongue out to wet her skin.

"Mmm? What could you possibly have to offer me that would be valuable enough to commit treason against your son?"

Regina reached around Emma, grabbing the ends of her blonde curls and pulling down gently so her head tipped back, exposing her long, slender neck so Regina could consume it more fully. She began to suck and nip at the spot under her ear, slinking down along her throat and across her collar bone. Then she brought her head up, once again poised just a centimeter from Emma's face.

"What if I promise to kiss you here?" she said, dusting her lips against her left cheek.

"I'm not sure. It's a secret," Emma said, closing her eyes.

"What if I said I would kiss you here," Regina whispered, sucking gently on her earlobe and licking at the shell of her ear.

"I mean, that's fairly convincing actually."

"Or I could kiss you here," the brunette said as she dove in, letting their mouths meet in a luxurious kiss.

"Mmm, I might be tempted to confess," Emma mumbled against her lips.

"I have one final offer, but this is your last chance. I promise to make love to you all night, to touch you everywhere until you beg me to stop," Regina said, running her hands down Emma's sides with intention.

"Oh god. You've broken my will. I'll tell. I'll tell," Emma breathed.

She looked at Regina with sincerity, trying to change the mood from teasing and seductive to earnest.

"I think he's worried about you. He doesn't want you to get hurt. He just… he wants you to be happy," Emma said, tenderly brushing a loose strand of hair out of Regina's eyes.

"Oh my. He went mama bear on you, Emma? What did he say?"

Emma hesitated, wanting to choose her words carefully to avoid betraying Henry's trust while still being honest with her girlfriend.

"He said he thought you were sad for a long time after losing Daniel, but he noticed a change recently. And he hopes I won't do anything to betray that."

"Emma? _Betray_ that? You're the reason for the change in me. You know that, right?" she said, peering intently into emerald eyes. Her voice became gravelly and hushed, making the tiny white hairs at the back of Emma's neck stand up. " _You_ are making me want to trust, want to care. You are waking me from a very long sleep."

"Me too," Emma said, tenting their heads together. "I didn't even know that I was asleep. All this time."

Regina framed Emma's face with her hands, leaning into her body.

"Are you still afraid, Emma?"

Emma nodded but hugged Regina tighter to her.

"Yes, but it's worth it. Because I have never wanted anything this much," Emma said, her voice shaking.

Regina didn't speak, but she laced her fingers with Emma's and guided her down the hall, up the stairs, and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning her weight against it. Emma moved to embrace her, but Regina put her arm out, signaling for the blonde to hold her ground.

Regina stepped out of her shoes and discarded her sweater and camisole, letting them gather in a heap on the floor. Then she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her body, adding them to the pile. She stood there, just adorned in lacy lavender underwear, never taking her eyes off Emma, who stood four feet away. Every cell in Emma's body was buzzing with desire, and her core began to feel tight and tingly, her fingers tickling to touch. But she waited, rooted to the floor, for Regina's next move. For a moment, she thought Regina might approach her, finally, but she took just one step closer and stopped once again. She reached around her body and unsnapped her bra, letting it drop down her arms and fall to the floor.

A low growl escaped Emma's throat, but still she didn't dare move. But then Regina, still locked on emerald eyes, shimmied out of her underwear, just the moonlight lighting her silhouette.

"Now you," Regina said roughly, the air so heavy between them.

Emma began removing her own clothes, mimicking her actions until she stood in her bra and underwear, watching as Regina's eyes caressed her toned torso and laved her body with attention.

"Everything. I want to see all of you," Regina said thickly.

Emma removed her bra and underwear and the two of them stood there, utterly fixated on each other, letting the tension build to a crescendo. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest, the endorphins of arousal scurrying through her at a dizzying pace. The want was overwhelming, and yet Regina's eyes told her to stay put.

Finally, _finally_ , Regina moved, walking around Emma's naked body until her breasts and stomach were flush against Emma's back. She could feel Regina's own heartbeat pounding against the skin of her back. She felt on fire, and she let out a needy whimper.

Then she felt Regina's breath against her ear and her hands creeping up her torso until they reached her breasts. She grasped each one in her hands and held them possessively as Emma's chest heaved. She pinched hardened nipples, rolling them between her fingers, and Emma moaned, letting her head dip back, resting back on Regina's shoulder. And the brunette attacked the open skin, sucking and nipping at the exposed flesh of her throat.

Emma's core was throbbing, her mind scattershot, overloaded with sensations. Regina squeezed her nipples harder, and Emma thought she could actually cum without being touched below the waist.

Without warning, Regina released her and prowled around her to the front, continuing her catlike bewitching of Emma's mind and body. Regina looked into her eyes, her pupils blown wide with desire, and reached for Emma's hand.

"I want you, too. More than I've ever wanted anything. _Feel_."

She corralled two fingers, dragged them down her pubic bone, and dipped them inside her. And when the wetness coated her hand, Emma groaned, impossibly turned on even more.

And that was it. Emma couldn't take it anymore. She pounced, pushing Regina to the bed roughly and climbing on top of her. She began to devour her body in the places the brunette needed her, sucking on nipples, biting them, and nibbling sensitive skin of her neck. Regina hooked her leg around Emma's hip and flipped them over, so the blonde was on her back. Then she began to crawl up her body until she was perched over Emma's chest, her body leaving a trail of wetness there.

"Make me yours, Emma," she said.

Emma pulled her up over her face and hooked her arms around her thighs. Regina grabbed the headboard for balance and began to ride her, slowly at first. Emma sucked and licked, burying her face in Regina, forgoing air for how much she wanted to be inside her, to make her cum. Emma moaned into her, the vibration causing Regina to buck harder, and Emma sucked her clit fully into her mouth, dragging her teeth along it.

"Oh god, Emma. Don't stop. I'm so close," Regina said breathlessly.

Then Regina's body began to shake and tremble, and Emma gripped her hips more firmly in place over her, the brunette's body muffling the sound, drowning out the world. Regina's wetness coated her lips and chin as her orgasm took her, and Emma just watched her, looking up at her taut muscles and soft curves in a stranglehold of perfect pleasure, and it was utterly enchanting.

Finally, Regina climbed back down and let her body flop on top of Emma's, kissing her languidly. Emma turned them so they were on their sides, facing each other, one of Regina's legs flopped over the blondes' hip lazily.

"Hmm," Emma said. "Lasagna was better, but it was close."

Regina leapt on top of her, pinning her hands up above her head.

"Oh, Emma Swan. You are so dead."

Emma smiled.

"I hope so."


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you again for the love. Love reading your thoughts on this story.

* * *

Emma was completely addicted to her body. The delicate fingers that were suddenly strong and firm when she least expected it, the full lips painted with red but made distinctly hers with the tiny scar, her lovely neck that would grow taut and long when she was about to orgasm. Her hair. Her breasts. Her hips. The adorable dimple above her ass. She was ladylike but commanding, seductive but vulnerable, and Emma was utterly transfixed.

She couldn't stop her fingers from feeling and exploring. She couldn't stop making love to her. She didn't want to. And Despite Regina's promise that she would make Emma beg her to stop touching her, it was the brunette who squirmed away from her after midnight when Emma reached for her again.

"Emma. I can't. I'm too sensitive. You've broken me," Regina growled.

Emma smirked but took mercy on her. She gathered Regina into her arms, letting the brunette drop her head above her breast, planting a kiss there in thanks.

They were quiet for a while, just reveling in each other, relinquishing the need for words for the moment. Emma tightened her arms around her and nuzzled to nose into her hair, inhaling her scent and living more fully in the moment.

Regina broke the quiet first.

"You know, it's never been this easy for me with anyone," she said in a tiny voice. "My mother, she always viewed love as a weakness, the one thing that could break you, that could bring you down. And even though I knew in my heart that wasn't true, I don't think I ever let anyone in and really know me."

Emma shifted down on the pillow so they were eye to eye.

"What about Daniel? You obviously loved him," Emma said gently.

"I did, yes. And he loved me. I trusted him, too, and we were good together, but it was never this easy between us. He was such a wonderful man—so kind, so sweet. But I'm not sure he totally got me. And in his defense, we were so young, and I'm not sure how well I knew myself. There were things I couldn't share with him. And then, after he was taken from me, I think I just packed my heart in bubble wrap. I never wanted to feel that way again—all that pain—and so I wouldn't let anyone get close, except Henry."

"What things?"

"Hmm?"

"You said there were things that you couldn't share with him. But there's so much I don't know about you, so how do you know you can share those things with me?"

"I don't know how I know. It's just a feeling I guess. A feeling that you wouldn't judge me. Because we are such similar creatures in many ways. I feel like you would understand some of the darker parts of me that I was ashamed to share with Daniel. Or I didn't know how to share."

Emma smiled at that, relieved and happy Regina felt that way. She had those same thoughts—that she would tell Regina everything, share the private parts of her that no one else knew, not even Ruby, not even David.

"Do you still see your parents?"

"They've been out of my life for a long time—since what happened to Daniel. It's a long story, and I'll tell it to you sometime," Regina said, her voice steady but strained.

"You can tell me anything. I know you've been present during some of my more altruistic moments, but I'm not all sunshine and rainbows. It's not easy in the foster system, and I've done plenty of things I am not proud of, both out of self-preservation and because I'd become hardened and kind of numb."

Regina, who had been looking up and down the planes of Emma's body, tracing her outline gently with the pads of her fingers, raised her chin and looked into her girlfriend's eyes.

"It's not even about what you've done or haven't done, Emma. It's just a feeling I have. Like we're…"

"—connected?" Emma whispered.

Regina nodded, grazing Emma's face with her palm.

"Ok, I want to ask you something. But… you won't get mad?"

"Ask me," Regina said, her face impassive.

"Do you still… want to be a chef? Is that why your reviews are so harsh—because you're always measuring other chefs against what you think you would be in your own kitchen?"

Emma watched Regina's face tighten and cloud over, and she knew she'd said the wrong thing, and her stomach clenched uncomfortably.

Regina didn't speak at first. But when she did, her tone was strident and edgy.

"My reviews are harsh because they're real," Regina spat. "Too many reviewers try to make everyone their best friend, and they don't tell the truth. Do you take issue with my writing, Emma?"

Regina sat up straighter in bed, pulling the sheet over herself, suddenly avoiding Emma's eyes.

"Shit, no, listen to me. That's not… that's not what I'm saying," she said, trying to pull Regina back to her. But the brunette was already sinking back into herself before Emma's eyes.

"Your writing is amazing, and you have an uncanny ability to see right into a chef's deepest inadequacies. But I sometimes wonder if you focus on negative things—on the weaknesses—instead of the more positive things for a reason. That's all. I didn't mean anything by it."

Regina held her ground, eyes narrowed, her jaw fixed.

"Please, Regina. I'm not attacking you. I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds. But I want to know you. I don't want to walk on eggshells with you."

Emma pulled at Regina's crossed arms, trying one last time to get her to open up.

"Please, come here to me."

But the brunette shifted further away, suddenly clamped firmly shut, her walls once again firmly in place.

Emma slid herself quietly out of the bed, the mattress still warm from their hours of lovemaking, and began to dress. She kept her back to Regina, too afraid she'd lose her composure if she looked at her. When she was fully dressed, she turned back around.

"I think it's funny. Less than a minute ago you're telling me how much you trust me. Looks like it's a little less than you thought," Emma said, feeling the tears burning at her eyes. "Guess I'll see ya."

She walked swiftly to the door, opening it, stepping into the hall, and closing it softly behind her. She thought for a moment she her name, so she stopped. But Regina never came out, so she walked down the stairs, grabbed her jacket, and left, keeping her tears at bay until she got into the yellow bug. She slid her key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, gripped the steering wheel tightly, and she drove home, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

* * *

Even though the crowds were light, Mondays were always busy. She took inventory, placed orders, wrote the week's menu, and chatted over a game plan with August. But she felt numb, lost in thought, and fighting the sickening, bone-crunching sensation of having inadvertently destroyed something that had become precious to her.

"August, when you do that skate wing tonight, make sure the pan is scalding hot, but don't rush it because I thought it was underdone last time."

"Gotcha. Anything else?"

"I want to do the salmon in that blood orange sauce we made at Charmings that time. I thought I'd seen a bunch in there last week. But I didn't see them today."

"We used them for a dessert last night. Do you want me to—"

"—lets do the spicy achiote instead."

"Ok. Swan?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't really seem fine. I know I've been giving you shit, but you've been on cloud nine, Emma. And now you seem… sad."

Emma looked down at her hands, trying to keep her composure. The emotions were embers burning just under the surface, and she didn't want to lose it at work.

"Emma, whatever happened, I have a feeling it's going to be fine. No one as smart as she is would let you go without a fight."

The chef's eyes shot up, shocked by his words, by his perceptiveness.

"How did you—"

"—Despite my appearance and my general cluelessness, I'm not a total idiot."

Emma gave him a smile.

"That's up for debate. But you are a good guy. Thanks for giving a shit," Emma said, balling up a fist and offering a pretend punch to his jaw.

* * *

Dinner was painfully light, just a handful of tables sprinkled throughout the night, and it made the time slow to a crawl. Staff was always light on Monday, but she sent almost everyone home, leaving her with one server and a dishwasher to get through the bulk of the evening. By 8:30, she sent them home too, and she sat at the bar with some paperwork and a tall glass of Aurora Valley Pinot Noir, leaving the open bottle in front of her for easy access. She rubbed her head, trying to keep out the thought that she'd just let her best chance at happiness just slip through her fingers.

"You're better off with the 2012 Elk Cover Roosevelt. It's got that mocha finish you like," said a smoky voice from behind her.

Emma whipped her head around, eyes feasting on Regina, bundled in a black trench and creme scarf, silky hair cascading across her shoulders.

"Hi," Emma said, uncertainly.

Regina came to stand in front of her, meeting her with a gentle smile. Emma slid her beanie off her head, dropping it on the bar and smoothing her blonde hair back nervously. Regina took her hand from her head and sandwiched it between her own

"Hi."

Emma tried to keep her emotions from blossoming on her face, but the act of contrition forced a traitorous sob from her throat and her eyes welled up with tears.

"I'm sorry, Emma. That was… I'm an idiot. Shutting you down was perhaps not the best way to show you how much I trust you. But I think it's me I don't trust. I'm used to people thinking the worst of me and having to defend myself, and I guess I just slipped back into that mode."

Emma gave a small nod, reaching her free hand to wipe away her tears.

"Do I still want to be a chef? I think I've been much to afraid to ask myself that question. Everyone thought I gave up that dream because it was too hard and I didn't want to be reminded of Daniel. And I think I wanted it that way. The truth is I think I was too afraid of failure to ever let myself really try. And if he hadn't died, I'm sure I would have found another reason. I don't think I really believed in myself. But I never stopped wanting it, and I think it's the reason that I am so hypercritical. I think I am voicing my own insecurities, my own self loathing. And you… you just called me on it."

"Regina, I wasn't trying to criticize you. I just want to know what's inside you."

Emma slid her legs further apart so Regina could stand between them, pulling the scarf from her neck and unbuttoning her coat.

"I think you're amazing, Regina," Emma said softly. "You're beautiful and talented and smart, and I can't stop thinking about you."

The brunette's eyes immediately dropped to the floor. Emma slid her fingers under her chin and lifted her face up.

"Please don't doubt it," Emma said, cupping her face with her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

"You forgive me?" Regina said, her voice so small.

"Yes, of course. I spent the day thinking I'd lost you before we could even really get started. And I felt like throwing up. You have added all this amazing, vibrant color to my life, and when I thought you were gone, it was just…"

"—colorless, yes. I felt the same."

Emma stood up and slipped her arms into Regina's coat, wrapping her arms tightly around her tiny waist. The brunette buried her head in Emma's neck and let out a shaky sigh. Emma dropped a peck on her jaw, and Regina looked up. She met her for a kiss, slipping her tongue into her mouth, and letting herself get lost in Emma. Their kiss was long and slow and filled with meaning. The rest of the world melted blissfully away.

They were so wrapped up in each other, in the romance and closeness of their embrace, they didn't hear the door open. They didn't hear Mr. Gold walk in, take note with some surprise at what he was seeing, and turn on his heels and walk immediately back outside.


	12. Chapter 12

Keep writing me. I love the feedback. Next chapter for you.

* * *

She wasn't consciously avoiding him, but between running a full-time restaurant and spending most of her free time with Regina, she just hadn't had a chance to return David's calls or texts, which were growing increasingly worried and agitated.

After that Monday night, Saviors was full every night for almost two weeks straight, so she found herself working nearly 80-hour work weeks, most nights returning to her apartment after midnight, climbing into her bed, and passing out. She'd sleep for seven hours, cram in some breakfast, go for a run, and return to the restaurant to repeat the whole cycle. It was a grind. But this was her dream, she reminded herself. And the demands wouldn't stop because she suddenly had a girlfriend.

They texted every day and talked on the phone, but she'd seen Regina just twice during those two weeks, heading over to Mifflin Street after work and crawling into bed with a sleepy brunette. At first she'd declined the offer to stay over, saying she didn't want to come by so late and wake her up, especially "smelling like restaurant."

"I don't care how late you come or what you smell like. I miss you. Come sleep with me. I promise not to touch you," Regina said teasingly.

"I'm not sure promising _not_ to touch me is going to convince me. But I miss you, too. I'll be there before midnight."

The night had been grueling. It was their first private party, a corporate group of 40 people, and they had chosen a four-course tasting menu, which meant Emma had to be in the kitchen throughout the night cooking and and playing maestro. But the group burned through bottles and bottles of wine and had grown raucous and abusive to her wait staff, so Emma had to rush into the dinning room and diffuse the situation. Emma had a way about her—she was feisty but diplomatic—and she took over for Belle and kept the customers calm until they left 20 minutes later.

But the night wore her down, and by the time she got to Regina's, she was wrecked. She even considered texting to say she couldn't make it, but more than anything she wanted to see those warm chocolate eyes and feel those inviting, protective arms around her.

So at 12:30 she crept into the mansion, hung her jacket in the hall closet, climbed the stairs, and snuck into Regina's bedroom. She stripped out of her chef uniform, leaving her in a tank top and boy shorts, washed her face and brushed her teeth, and crept into bed. She looked over at Regina longingly as she slept. Despite how much she wanted to cuddle up with her, she looked too beautiful and peaceful to wake, so she curled up next to her, carefully placing her head a few inches from Regina's.

Just as she was about to close her eyes and settle off to sleep, Regina's fluttered open, and a slow, sleepy smile blossomed beautifully across her face.

"Emma. You're here."

"Yes. Were you expecting someone else?"

Regina shook her head and hauled Emma in, slinging her head over Emma's shoulder.

"No. But I was just dreaming about you," she whispered into her ear. "So I'm just making sure it's the real you."

"What can I do to make you sure that it's the flesh-and-blood version?" Emma breathed back.

"I know it's real. You're much warmer and _much_ more beautiful in real life," she said, tightening her arms around Emma, weaving her fingers into her hair and kissing along her jaw. She grew quiet for a moment and then let out a tiny, sleepy purr.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just… when you're in my arms, I never want to let you go."

"Then don't," Emma said, kissing her lips.

Regina pulled back to look at Emma in the darkened room.

"You look so tired, Emma. Come here. Sleep," Regina said, coaxing Emma's head onto her chest and winding her arms around her.

 _This feels like home_ , Emma thought, as sleep pulled her under.

She'd slept at Mifflin Street on one other occasion, but otherwise, they hadn't seen each other much. Emma was in the office at Saviors, finishing up the bookkeeping from the previous night, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and a lukewarm coffee in a thermos in front of her, when someone knocked on the door.

"Yes?"

August popped his head in, his face painted in his usual scowl.

"Swan, there's someone here to see you."

"Ok, who is it?"

"It's Mr. Gold. Do you want me to tell him you're occupado?"

"Fucking hell. What the hell does he want? No, send him in."

A moment later, a suited man with oily hair that hung flatly to his chin sauntered in, standing ominously in the doorway of the office. Emma stood up to her full height and greeted the man with a curt nod.

"Mr. Gold. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He gave her a smug, greasy smile.

"I wanted to formally introduce myself, Miss Swan. I understand you have quite an establishment here."

"Thank you. We're working hard. I've heard amazing things about your restaurant as well," Emma said flatly.

"Is that so? Well not everyone in this town thinks so. In fact, I think you've grown quite close to someone who thinks my restaurant is—what was it—ah, soulless, I believe."

Emma's eyebrows shot up.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, I very much hoped the venerable Miss Mills would have given us a more favorable review, but what can you do? But you never know, do you? Maybe she will change her mind," he said smugly. "But you seem like a very convincing young lady, so maybe she'll come around. I very much hope she does because no one would want the appearance of impropriety, would they? As if one restaurant got a better review than another because she had a personal attachment to one of the chefs, which I'm sure was not the case."

"You little weasel," Emma said, her face pinched with disgust.

"Ah ah ah, Miss Swan. I'd be careful there, dearie. You'd be amazed how quickly things can go off track at a restaurant," he said, flashing his gold teeth at her in a wicked grin. "Well, I am sure you are very busy. I just wanted to welcome you officially to the neighborhood. It's been a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure was all yours, Mr. Gold. You can see yourself out."

He offered her a wink and turned on his heels, disappearing from her doorway just as abruptly as he came. Emma slumped back into her chair and buried her head in her arms.

"Fuck! Shit! Fuck!" Emma screamed into her arms, pounding her fist against the desk. August appeared int he doorway again, flopping himself into a chair opposite Emma.

"What did that scumbag want?"

"Nothing good," she said, picking up her head.

"Jesus, Emma. You look like hammered shit. You need to get away from here before you turn into a big ugly raisin with eyes," he said, gesturing vaguely at her face.

"Thanks, that's incredibly sweet of you."

"I'm serious. You need a day off. At least one. You've been living here. Go take the day off tomorrow, and maybe the day after that. You're no good to us as a corpse. I checked the books, and tomorrow is light, and I've got the A-team staff."

"No, I can't. Tomorrow is—."

"Bye! So long! Adios! Aloha!" August said, waving his hand comically. "See you in a few days."

She was too tired to object. When he left her office, she shut down her computer, threw some papers in her bag, grabbed her coat, and headed out the door.

* * *

She went to her apartment, took a shower, threw some clothes into an overnight bag, and hopped back in her bug. She didn't exactly know where she was going, but she knew she needed to recharge her batteries. She drove across town and pulled into Regina's driveway, crossing her fingers that she was home and that her presence would be a welcome surprise.

She knocked on the door and waited for a minute, for a while but no one answered. Then she remembered Regina was in Boston. _Shit._ She looked at her watch. It was 3:20. She could be there by dinner. She ran back to her car and fired off a text.

 **Emma:** Want to meet me for dinner?

She immediately saw three dots appear as Regina typed her response, and she felt an instantaneous warmth in her belly.

 **Regina:** I wish. I don't think I'll be back till close to 9. :(

 **Emma:** Not here. I'll come to you.

 **Regina:** To Boston?

 **Emma:** Yes. I'm on a forced vacation. And I want to spend it with you. I want to take you to my favorite place, and then we have an overdue errand.

 **Regina:** That's cryptic, but it sounds wonderful. I just need to make sure Henry can stay with a friend tonight. Give me a second.

Emma fidgeted in her car, waiting nervously for a response. A moment later, Regina texted her an address.

 **Regina:** I'll be there waiting for you. XX—R

Emma turned the ignition and turned on the radio at full blast, feeling lighter and more content than she had in weeks.

* * *

She had plugged the address into her GPS without really thinking about it, so when she pulled up to the boutique XV Beacon hotel in Boston's Beacon Hill district, she ought to have felt upstaged, seeing as this was her first attempt at a spontaneous and romantic gesture. But in the weeks since they started dating, Emma quickly realized that topping from the bottom was Regina's specialty and that she was incredibly crafty at it. She had gleaned very quickly that Regina liked to be in charge both in and out of the bedroom.

She pulled her car up to the corner of the hotel at 7:10, slung her bag over her shoulder, handed her keys to the valet, and headed into the lobby. She walked up to the front desk feeling a nervous excitement percolating under the surface. An impeccably dressed blonde woman greeted her warmly with a gentle smile.

"Good evening, madam. How can I help you?" she said politely.

"I'm checking in. I think the person I'm staying with may have checked in first,"

"Yes ma'am. Miss Swan, I presume?"

Emma just nodded mutely, a little stunned. She ran restaurants that catered to the kind of people who stayed at places like this. But she had never really indulged in high-end hotels or resorts herself, and she wasn't used to this kind of treatment.

"Miss Mills asked that I give this to you," she said, handing her an envelope and a room key. "You are on the sixth floor in the Beacon Studio. Quite lovely. I'm sure you're going to love it."

She came around the front desk and guided Emma to the elevators.

"My name is Kathryn, and any friend of Regina's is a friend of mine. So please don't hesitate if there's anything you need."

Emma gave her a small smile and pressed the up button. Kathryn watched her step in and grinned at her until the doors closed. Impressed and slightly overwhelmed, Emma felt her nerves grow with each floor she passed until they were tickling just under her skin.

 _Why am I so nervous_? She knew the answer, but she wasn't ready to say it out loud or even put words to it. She stepped off the elevator and knocked on the door of Room 606 and waited, her heart hammering in her chest. The door swung open, and Regina answered the door in a sleeveless red dress and a coy expression settled on her face. With her hair hung loosely around her shoulders and her face free of makeup, Emma was overcome by the sensation of seeing her for the first time, and it electrified her.

Suddenly, all the stress of the last few weeks and the worry over her interaction with Gold evaporated, and there was just Regina. This strong, gorgeous, brilliant, provocative woman. _My girlfriend_.

Emma stood there in the doorway, frozen, willing her brain and body to power on.

Sensing Emma's uncertainty, Regina simply held out her hand, and Emma took it, letting Regina pull her inside the room. Emma stepped in and looked around. Although the hotel building dated back to 1903, the room was appointed with modern luxury—stainless steel was juxtaposed by heavy black built-in shelves and a feature wall adorned by a flatscreen TV and crackling fireplace. The furniture was curvaceous and refined, and room was spacious, bookended by wall-to-ceiling windows that no doubt made the space feel airy and sunlit during the day.

Regina's black leather laptop bag sat on a heavy oak work table next to a bottle of champagne on ice, two flutes, and a single votive.

Emma came to a stop in the center of the room, and Regina gently removed her bag from her shoulder, dropping it to the floor, still giving the blonde a little space and quiet to come back to herself. The sexual tension in the room was palpable, and Emma didn't think she'd ever felt anything like it. It was heavy, like a fog rolling in and swallowing them, making them forget everything else. Finally, Regina came to stand directly in front of her, meeting her eyes fully for the first time.

"Hi," Regina said softly.

"Hi," Emma breathed.

"Is this ok? I didn't mean to steal your show. I just really love this place, and I knew you'd love it too. And they have blueberry beignets here in the morning that you won't stop thinking about for a week. And there's a roof garden with the most incredible view, and it's just—"

Emma placed a single finger in front of Regina's lips and began stalking toward her, pushing Regina backward until the back of her knees hit the bed.

"Too many words," Emma whispered. "It's been almost two weeks, and I need to kiss you now. And then I'm going to do other things to you that have nothing to do with food. And _then_ the beignets. And then the roof garden. Ok?"

"Yes. Ok," Regina uttered, her cheeks flushing adorably.

Emma wrapped her arms fully around Regina, nuzzling into her, bringing her further and further into her. As she burrowed in, Regina could feel the tension in Emma's body, and she wanted to take charge, to help the blonde relax, to make Emma trust her. She wanted to make Emma feel so good. But instead she relinquished control, giving herself over to Emma's kiss, opening her lips and letting her girlfriend inside her mouth.

Suddenly, Emma curled her fingers around Regina's biceps and looped her arms tightly around her own neck and kissed her again, sliding her zipper slowly down and holding the small of her back reverently.

The kisses were heated, and Regina's breathing became labored, her desire for Emma quickly getting the best of her. Emma pushed Regina's dress down her hips and helped her step out of it. Her eyes swept across the curves and planes of her body, leaving kisses above the black strapless bra Regina wore before unsnapping it and letting it fall to the floor to join the dress. Emma locked with warm brown eyes while she pulled down her panties, never breaking the connection.

Regina desperately wanted to convey what she felt for Emma, how strong her feelings were, and with each kiss, with each touch, she tried to tell her. Emma took off her own sweater and peeled off her pants, removing her tank top, and standing before Regina in just her underwear.

Regina looked at her—the cascade of long blonde hair, the strong, slender figure, the wide, vulnerable green eyes, and she knew what she had to do. She beckoned her closer and kissed her lips gently.

"Emma, I want to give you something… something I've never given anyone."

Emma tilted her head, looking at her expectantly.

"Anything," she whispered.

"I want you to take me. Make me yours," Regina said, her voice trembling.

Emma's face lit with a full-wattage smile, understanding fully what Regina was offering her. She sat down on the bed and brought Regina onto her lap, swinging her legs around her back.

"You are so… you're just… everything," Emma said, kissing Regina's neck and sucking gently at the softest spot under her ear. She reached down and cupped her girlfriend's breasts, holding them, feeling their weight. She dipped her head and sucked a nipple into her mouth, pinching the other, harder, and then harder, until Regina began to whimper and moan.

Emma dragged a hand down her body, making a straight line to the apex of her thighs, and she slipped into the wetness, swirling her fingers, kissing Regina's collarbone.

"Emma, more. I need more," she panted into her ear.

The blonde entered her with two fingers, adding a third, and she began to fuck her, their bodies so close and intertwined that Emma could feel the powerful metronome of Regina's heart. The brunette's head dropped back, exposing her chest and throat fully.

"Open your eyes, Regina. Look at me," she said. "I want to see you."

Regina's eyes fluttered open, and as Emma continued to thrust into her body, curling her fingers, and using her thumb to rub her clit, she cried out, staring directly into green eyes. It was mesmerizing, watching this woman come apart in a thousand tiny little pieces, looking straight into her soul. Making Regina cum this way, watching her, feeling her, tasting her into an orgasm was the most erotic experience of Emma's life.

As Regina's body shivered and trembled through her climax, Emma pressed her face against the side of her head and placed her mouth next to her ear.

"Mine."


	13. Chapter 13

Seatbelts on people! Hope you're having as much fun with this story as I am.

* * *

Just after 7 am, a tiny treacherous sliver of sunlight breached a gap in the drawn curtains, pulling Emma from a dream. She momentarily forgot where she was and looked around to reorient herself. She looked beside her, and Regina was burrowed under the covers, her dark hair cascading over the pristine white pillow. They had fallen asleep wrapped up in each other, but Regina had drifted away in her sleep, the tide of the night washing her away across the vastness of the king size bed.

Emma rolled over to her, wrapping her arms around her once more, pushing Regina's naked body onto her side so she could tuck her limbs against her. She pulled her hair carefully to one side so she could bury her face protectively into the back of the brunette's head, first leaving a neat little kiss where her neck and shoulder met.

Regina let out a sleepy little noise, registering Emma's presence, but returned to her steady breaths and light chuffing, still sleeping soundly. Holding her like that, it felt so good, and Emma realized she was finally start to trust it, to rely on it, to need it like air. Part of her hated needing someone else because she knew that pain of being cast aside so well, but somehow Regina had pushed through all that scar tissue and found the soft flesh underneath.

The words, they were on the tip of her tongue, pushing at the outskirts of her mind, trying to get out. Wanting to be realized. Waiting to be said. And as she rewound through the previous night, she knew Regina felt the same—giving herself so willingly to Emma had been a big step for both of them, for their relationship.

So she let some of the words weave their out, the letters coalesced, formed, and escaped in a breathy puff of air, left to linger in the atmosphere.

"I'm falling for you."

Content to have put voice to persistent thoughts, Emma nuzzled her nose into Regina's spine, tightened her arms around her, and fell back to sleep.

Regina's eyes cracked open, her lips forming a tiny smile.

—-

"Open your mouth."

Something smells like doughnuts. Emma opened her eyes, and sure enough there was a black basket in front of her filled with something that looked like a cross between a jelly doughnut and a scone.

Emma obediently opened her mouth, and a light, sugary pastry was gloriously overpowered by a burst of tart, creamy blueberry, and the blonde closed her eyes and moaned in satisfaction.

"Oh my god. Yum. That is incredible. Mmmm."

She opened her eyes to see Regina wrapped in a white robe, sat indian style on the bed in front of her, a a smile painted crookedly across her face.

"I'm starting to regret this. That beignet is making me incredibly jealous," Regina said smartly.

Emma reached over and smoothed her hand across Regina's exposed thigh.

"Nothing to be jealous of. I'm pretty sure you coax those same sounds out of me. This beignet doesn't hold a candle to all of that," Emma said, gesturing to Regina. "How long have you been up?"

"About an hour. I figured you'd be starving since we never went to dinner last night. I hope you weren't disappointed. You were going to take me to your favorite place," she said.

"Disappointed? After last night? That would make me a crazy person. Last night was…" Emma shook her head, trying to conjure the right words. "Earth shattering. I'll never forget last night."

Regina landed a light kiss on her lips.

"I feel like a different person," Emma said, stretching her arms lazily. "I can hardly remember what a shit day I had before I got here. Or that fucking jerk Gold."

"Gold? What are you talking about?" Regina said, her voice sharpening.

Emma sat up a little straighter, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Oh that's right. I didn't really have a chance to talk to you much last night. He came into the restaurant yesterday to see me," Emma explained.

"What did he want?" Regina said, her face pulled into a frown.

"Oh, he insinuated he knew that we knew each other and threw around some threats. That guy is such a creep," Emma said. "But I told him to get lost, and that was basically it."

Regina stood up, forking a hand into her hair. She put the basket of beignets on the desk and began to pace worriedly. Emma pulled herself completely upright, scanning the floor for a shirt to throw on. She found her tank top and underwear, and pulled them on quickly, glancing over at Regina who had grown pale and withdrawn.

Emma moved to stand in front of her and grabbed her hands in her own, pulling them into her chest to bring her girlfriend's focus back to her.

"Regina? What's wrong?"

"He threatened you?"

"Sort of indirectly. He said something about me being able to convince you to change your mind or something and how quickly things can go bad in a restaurant. I kind of tuned him out at that point. He's a total douchebag. But I'm not scared of him."

Regina looked up at Emma, her eyes filled with tears, her face pinched and drawn.

"Not again," she said, so quietly Emma almost missed it.

"Not what?" Emma said, trying to bring Regina into her arms.

But Regina was suddenly on hyperspeed, scampering around the hotel room, collecting her things, slinging her laptop bag over her shoulder.

"Regina! Honey, please stop a second. Talk to me. What is happening?"

Regina took a deep, shuddery breath and looked at Emma square in the face.

"What is it? Is this about Gold?"

"No, Emma. I'm so sorry. But I need to go. This isn't going to work between us. This might seem… harsh, but I just can't. I thought I was ready, but I'm not. Please don't follow me, don't call."

Emma suddenly felt like she was hyperventilating, her heart racing, her stomach churning. Her eyes filled with tears, and she felt that violent, searing rejection cut her in from deep inside her. She looked again at Regina's face, trying to find her, but the lines were harsh and her eyes were cold.

Her throat was tight, and she couldn't find her voice, a thousand thoughts screaming to get out, to stop Regina, to shake her.

She turned without another word, walking fluidly to the door. But then she stopped, looking back at Emma a final time, her face final cracked with pain, and she left.

And Emma ran to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach.

—

She sat on the bathroom floor for a long time, hiccuping and gasping for air, until finally she felt dried up. She stood, washed and dried her face, brushed her teeth, and pulled on her clothes. She walked back into the bedroom and gathered her things, picking up her phone and pulling up her contacts and pressing the call button on the one person who could help her make sense of this.

"David? I need you."

—

It was David's day off from work, so she drove to his apartment across town. She stopped at the traffic lights and merged on the highway, but she felt like a robot, barely aware of her surroundings.

She played the last hour over and over in her mind, but she couldn't make sense of it. Something had spooked Regina, but it felt impossible to piece the puzzle together without more information. But really, she was hurting too much to form coherent thoughts. The rejection felt like an anvil in her chest, and not because someone turned their back on her, but because Regina had, the thought once again bringing tears to her achy red eyes.

She parallel parked on David's street and walked up the three floors to his apartment, knocking gently at the door.

David opened the door with a big smile, which evaporated instantly when he saw the state Emma was in.

"Come inside," he said, grabbing a hold of her hand. He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. "What happened?"

Emma knew she had to rewind from the beginning since she hadn't talked to David since she and Regina got together. How is he possibly going to understand all of this?

"Well, kind of a lot has happened since we last spoke. The thing is, Regina and I—"

"I know about that, Emma. Regina told me all about it. She sounded so happy. She sounded so excited. So, well, in love."

Emma began to cry instantly at his words. He pulled her in to his chest for a hug, rubbing soothing circles at her back. He let her sob into his shirt, emptying her pain out into him. Finally she pulled back, looking apologetically at his wet shirt and up into his face.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "This just happened, and since you know her so well—"

"What just happened?"

Emma recounted the events, telling him about Regina's column in the Globe, which David had seen. She told him about her ugly interaction with Gold, in more detail than what she had described to Regina, and a knowing expression settled upon his face. He put his hand on hers and squeezed.

"You told her what Gold said, and she left you?"

Emma nodded numbly.

"Oh honey. I'm so sorry. That must have been a killer. But it's not about you, darlin."

"What do you mean?"

David stood up and wordlessly began boiling hot water, pulling chamomile tea bags from a cabinet and dropping them into two mugs.

"You remember everything I told you about Daniel, right? About how her mother didn't approve and made his life a living hell?"

"Yes, of course," Emma said.

"Well, it was more than that. Her mother, Cora, she was directly involved in his death. She had been threatening him for weeks. And although we could never exactly prove it, we believe she drove him off the road and caused him to lose control of his car," he said, stealing a glance at Emma who was gaping at him. "People at the scene of the accident said they saw her car."

"For Regina, the pain of losing Daniel and knowing it was her own mother that caused his death—she felt responsible. It's why she locked her heart away for so long, I think. Why she couldn't even work in a kitchen anymore. I think she believe that allowing herself to love someone could be her—and their undoing—and it was just too much for her."

"Oh my god," Emma said. "Did she go to the police?"

David shook his head glumly.

"There was nothing to go on. And at the end of the day, it was her own mother. Plus, she was pregnant, so she had to try to regroup and gather enough strength and courage to give birth alone and ultimately raise a child," David said, removing the boiling water from the stove and pouring it into the mugs. He set one in front of Emma, pulling the honey down from the shelf and offering it to her.

"Thank you. I wish I had known. I asked her about Cora once, but she didn't seem quite ready to talk about it, and I didn't want to push," Emma said. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at David thoughtfully. "Do you think I lost her? I'm not sure I could handle it. I, I'm… I'm in love with her. Like, hopelessly."

David offered her a gentle smile.

"Did you tell her?"

"Sort of. But I'm not sure if she heard. She was sleeping," Emma said, chagrined.

"Swan! What the hell?"

"I was afraid. And, apparently, for good reason. Am I crazy to go after her if I know it's just going to end in heartbreak? For me."

"First of all, you don't know that. You're the one person who could actually reach her, Emma. And I think if you can't, I'm afraid she's going to be very lonely for a very long time. I know she feels the same way about you, Emma. I had never heard her like this—giddy, almost. Not even with Daniel. Don't give up on her."

"What the hell can I do?"

"Convince her that you can't let someone like Gold or Cora, or anyone else for that matter, dictate who you love. And make her understand that you'd rather fight that asshat with her by your side than live your life without her. I know the relationship is new, but sometimes you just know. She's your person."

Emma raised an eyebrow at David.

"Uh, hello, Price Charming. Are you speaking from personal experience?"

David's face broke into a smile.

"I asked her to marry me, Emma."

"Snow Wh—I mean Mary Margaret?"

"No. Mary Poppins. Yes, and I caught that."

Emma reached over and hugged him.

"David! That's amazing. I'm so happy for you!"

"I'm glad you're here, actually, because we decided not to wait. We are getting married in a month on her parent's farm. Really small wedding. But I want you to stand by me, be my best… whatever."

Emma's eyes were wide, her jaw hung slack.

"David! Congratulations. I am so happy for you."

"Thank you. But right now, we have to get to work. We have a queen to win you."


	14. Chapter 14

Love to know what you think of this one.

* * *

David and Emma talked for hours, and he offered her more insight on Regina, helping her understand her actions a little better. He also told her more about Cora, recounting stories of her cruelty toward Regina from the time she was a small child, often in the form of callous indifference.

Throughout much of her life, Regina had been ignored, and when she needed a mother most—pregnant and in the wake of losing her first love—she had effectively been disowned, which, Emma mused, basically left her orphaned. By the end of their conversation, Emma desperately wanted to wrap her arms around Regina and kiss her face, to make amends for all the pain she endured as a child and in her early adulthood. If anything, she felt closer to her, realizing just how similar their experiences had been, despite the differences in status and wealth.

David offered suggestions on how Emma might win her back—grand gestures, like surprising her with a romantic dinner or declaring her love when Regina went to visit the stables. But all of that just felt wrong, unfitting of the moment, and ultimately Emma didn't want to be the pursuer. She had been hurt enough, and it was time for someone to prove their love to _her_ for a change. Despite how much she was hurting and how much she wanted her, she knew Regina had to come back to her on her own terms.

After a few hours, she thanked David for listening and being such a caring friend, promised to keep him looped in, kissed him on the cheek, and headed back to Storybrooke with her gut twisted in knots and her chest full of lead. She got back to her apartment and wallowed, twice typing texts to Regina and then deleting them. She thought about calling Ruby, but she really didn't want to explain the whole situation again.

So she drank a bottle of wine and felt her weary eyes begin to get heavy when her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text message.

 **Unknown number:** Don't give up on her. She loves you.

She stared at the message, her sluggish mind trying to figure out what she was looking at. It could only be one person.

 **Emma:** Henry?

 **Unknown number:** Good guess.

 **Emma:** Is she ok?

 **Unknown number:** No. She's a mess. But now I know you love her too.

 **Emma:** That's not always enough I guess.

 **Unknown number:** It has to be. Don't give up. Please.

 **Emma:** You're sweet, kid. But I'm not sure it's up to me. Take care of her, Henry.

 **Unknown number:** I will. But who will take care of you?

 _Good question_.

* * *

The next night at Saviors, Emma retired to the office a little early to do the books. She normally stayed on the floor to greet customers and help the staff with cleanup, but her nerves were frayed, having spent the entire day expending most of her energy on not bursting into tears. It was all she could to do keep herself from ripping Killian's face off for the mere suggestion that they add a butternut squash lasagna to the menu. Instead, she'd just glowered at him, as a wave of nausea washed over her at the memory of their "Spicy Latina" night together.

She looked at the clock. It was almost 10. She could go home. But for what? A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Ruby slipped into the office wearing a sympathetic smile, her hair pulled into a low ponytail.

"Hey you. What are you doing here? I thought you had to help Granny tonight."

Ruby settled into the chair opposite Emma and crossed her legs.

"All finished there. Just checking on you. I texted, but I didn't hear back. Wanted to make sure you were ok."

Emma narrowed here eyes.

"Checking on me? Who spilled?"

"August may look like a dumbass, but he pays attention. Something happened with Regina? I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it because you didn't call me, but I just wanted to make sure you knew I was here for you if you wanted to talk about it."

"Thanks, Rubes. Well, I'll give you the 50-cent version. Gold came in here the other day, and he basically told me he knew I was with Regina and insinuated that if I didn't get her to retract her review—which, who does that—then he would make life miserable for us, for me. I just blew it off, honestly, because that guy is such a freak. But then I met her in Boston, and we had the most incredible night together. I mean, _incredible_ , Ruby. She was just, ugh, I felt so connected to her."

Emma's voice grew stubbly and strained, and Ruby rubbed her thigh reassuringly, waiting for her to continue.

"Then the next morning, we woke up together, and I mentioned what had happened with Gold. And, she disappeared on me. Like she just shut down, right before my eyes. She was out of there before I could even blink. She said she couldn't do this with me, that we were done. And that was it, she was gone."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, I kind of lost it. So I went to see David up there. I told him everything, although he already knew most of it. She had talked to him. So he filled me in on a bunch of things I didn't know. He told me more about what happened with Henry's dad, Daniel—how he really died. He told me that Regina's mother had been threatening her fiancé for a month, and she basically drove him off the road, which is how he died—he crashed his car. And Regina felt responsible and basically shut down for a decade and a half. And then she and I… and then this happened—"

"And she's scared shitless that the same thing is going to happen now. She terrified of losing you, of something happening to you. And it being her fault," Ruby said, nodding in understanding.

"I guess, yeah."

"So what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean? What _can_ I do?"

Ruby tilted her head to the side and looked at Emma with chagrin.

"Go after her, Emma. You are in love with her. You shouldn't just give up."

"You know, Rubes, you're the third person to tell me that. And here's the thing. I didn't give up. And I'm not giving up. But she did. So she needs to be the one to decide she wants this, that she won't let fear of what _might_ happen overcome the possibility of falling in love, of having a relationship with me. I think she needs to get there on her own, on her terms. I wish I could wave a magic wand and she'd suddenly realize that we belong together, but I'm not sure I can do that."

Ruby thumbed at Emma's cheeks, wiping away tears she didn't know she'd shed.

"When did you get get all Dr. Phil on me? Maybe you're right, but I just want you to be happy. And I have truly never seen you as happy as when you were with her. I think you have to find a way. She's just freaked. Ugh. Gold is such an impish little troll. Fuck him."

"You know what? If it hadn't been him, it would have been something else. He was just the trigger."

Ruby looked at Emma appraisingly. Then she grabbed one of Emma's hands and squeezed it.

"You're saying all the right things, Emma. But when you find someone like her, you can't let go without a fight. She's worth risking your heart. I have watched you all these years, the way you've gone after your dreams," she said, gesturing around them. "So fearless. I know it's not the same thing, but you have to call up some of that badass bitch courage now. Go get her back."

Emma smiled through her tears. Ruby's words, somehow, were making her feel more hopeful, like maybe there was a way to get through to Regina.

"See? This is how I know I'm not a complete moron," Emma said, her eyes shining gratefully at Ruby. "I'm smart enough to have you as a best friend. I owe you big time."

"You owe me nothing. I've been the one in the deficit for a long time. So I've got a ways to go to catch up."

"Tell you what? Lets call it even. Love you, Rubes."

* * *

She went to bed feeling a little better that night, but she still had no idea what to do. For weeks, she was paralyzed, wanting desperately to reach out to Regina but fearing for her own heart. She tried to busy herself with the restaurant and helping David with some wedding planning, but she felt a thundering sadness weighing her down.

Emma woke up the morning before David's wedding, once again feeling the emptiness pulling her under, experiencing the loss with the start of a new day. The rejection still hurt, but more than that, she missed Regina. She missed their closeness, that decadent mixture of sweet and sassy, the perceptiveness, the warmth in those eyes, and just being with someone who noticed everything, who never missed a beat.

With sluggish limbs and a tight chest, Emma pulled on her running tights, a long-sleeve shirt, vest, and sneakers, and went out for a run. She found her favorite playlist on her phone, the one that never failed to motivate her, and she began to run at a punishing pace, no idea where she was headed.

With no word from Regina or even Henry since that morning at the hotel, doubts were the only remaining embers. Had she imagined the intensity between them? Had she overplayed Regina's feelings for her? Had she let herself fall for a woman who was never going to love her back? Despite what Henry had said, she wondered if Regina was feeling even a fraction of the sadness and hurt that she was experiencing since their relationship came to a screeching halt.

She found herself running toward Regina's house, but instead of turning down the familiar streets, she willed her legs to steer her away, winding up at a lake nearby. It was a crisp April day, and the moody sky and bare trees matched the way she felt inside. She pushed hard, sweat dripping in her eyes.

Emma was halfway around the lake, Foo Fighters's "Everlong" blasting in her ears, the the drums powering her ahead, when she saw a figure about 50 feet ahead sitting on a bench, crumpled over. As she got closer, she realized the figure was crying, shoulders shaking, black hair covering the face. It was a woman. It was Regina. _Oh god_.

The realization pierced through her, the sudden understanding that Regina was just as emotionally wrecked as she was. She wanted to comfort her, to wrap her arms around her, to take away the pain. But instead she stopped on a dime and switched directions, starting her run home with determination. She knew exactly what she had to do.

* * *

Regina walked home, her faced red and puffy from the tears and the wind whipping at her for hours. She had lost track of time. Days even. The sadness and hopelessness had eaten away at her from deep within. Even her bones felt tired. Any comfort she tried to provide her body was mercilessly turned away—food she loved tasted bland and sleep was interrupted. She was a mess.

Turning away from Emma—breaking her heart—was the most difficult thing she had ever done. It had broken her. Not just for herself, although she knew she was desperately in love with her, and leaving her created a despair she hadn't known since Daniel died. But it was worse in some ways because she had felt more connected to Emma, more understood. She also hated herself because she knew she had played into Emma's worst fears—being once again rejected and left behind by someone she loved.

But she knew what Gold was capable of, and the thought that Emma could lose her dream or be harmed in any way because of Regina was just too much to even consider. She berated herself mercilessly for writing that review. How could she have been so naive?

But despite all that, it had taken every ounce of willpower not to call Emma, to go to Saviors, to drive to her house in the middle of the night. She wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to make love to her, and she knew those would be the only remedies to the unrelenting pain that wracked her body, mind, and spirit.

But that would be selfish.

Nevertheless, she knew if Emma came for her, she would fold. But Regina knew the blonde was too proud for that.

As she approached her door, there was a large white envelope taped to her door with LETTER TO THE EDITOR written in thick black ink. She knew that handwriting.

 _Emma_.

Her heart began to hammer in her chest, and for the first time in days she felt her cheeks flush with a happy warmth. Even just the thought that Emma had just been where she was standing was adrenaline in her veins.

She pulled the envelope from the door and unlocked it, taking off her coat and moving to the kitchen counter. She sat on a stool and unsealed the flap, pulling out a handwritten letter on a piece of notepaper.

 _Dear Editor,_

 _I know this is unconventional, but I need advice. I_ _'_ _ve fallen hopelessly, desperately in love with a remarkable woman. She_ _'_ _s painfully beautiful, wickedly smart, and she challenges me in every way. Everything between us is natural and real, and it has energized me and allowed me access to parts of myself I didn_ _'_ _t know existed. I strongly suspect we are made for each other. But we have come to a crossroads. She has had a difficult past, and someone she cared for very deeply was taken away from her at the hand of someone else she trusted, someone who was supposed to love her. The wound is very deep, and although I believe she cares about me, she has walked away from our relationship very suddenly because she fears someone may try to hurt me and that she would be the cause. She is worried that history may repeat itself in a cruel twist of fate._

 _So I_ _'_ _m writing to you for help. I want this woman to know that even if that if her worst fears were to come true, it would still be worth it to me to have had even just a moment with her, even just a taste of this love I believe we have. I am desperately hoping she cares about me enough to take the risk, to face down the world_ _—_ _together. If we tackle the threats as a couple, I know we are strong enough to overcome them. But alone, it_ _'_ _s too painful. I miss her every goddamn minute of the day. Maybe she thinks she_ _'_ _s protecting me, but I want her to protect me with her affection and her presence, not by leaving me to face the threats alone._

 _So please, if you have any thoughts on the magic combination of words I could use to explain all this to her, to win her heart, tell me. Text me. Email me. Skywrite it. I need to know. I need her._

 _With much gratitude,_

 _Emma Swan_

Regina's shoulders shook, and she broke down again, Emma's words both decimating and healing her all at once. She folded the letter in half and went to put it back in the envelope, but when she looked inside, there was an object buried within.

She turned the envelope upside down, and a familiar necklace fell out onto the counter. It was the swan talisman that Emma always wore. Regina clutched it in her hand, pulled the letter to her chest, and headed upstairs to pack, shower, and get ready for the wedding.


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for all your feedback. You make this story so much fun to write. It's wedding day. Hope you like. XO

* * *

By the time Emma crossed the footbridge and arrived at the makeshift wedding tent in front of the rough-hewn stone tower at Blue Hills Reservation, David was pacing back and forth in his tux, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Emma was supposed to help him tie up some loose ends, help direct guests from the park entrance to the Eliot Tower, but the traffic from Storybrooke was a gnarled mess, and by the time she reached the historic site, about an hour south of Boston, Emma could see he had let the nerves get the best of him.

She cursed herself again for being late and scurried over to him, placed a gentle hand on his back, and greeted his eyes with an apologetic look. He deflected it, scowling scornfully at her.

"I _know_. I _know_. Please don't hate me. I left as soon as I could. God, so self-centered. You act like it's your freaking wedding day or something," she said. "No seriously, I'm sorry. I'm here _now_. What can I do? Pigs in a blanket? Pin a rose on somebody? Spell-check your vows? I'm here for you."

David looked at Emma, soft blonde curls framing her face, slightly flushed from rushing, light make up enhancing those high cheek bones and green eyes. He gestured to her blue strapless dress, which was somehow simple and stunning all at once.

"Wow. I don't think I've ever seen you dressed like a grown up. You look like an actual woman."

"Uh thanks, that's incredibly flattering. You clean up pretty well yourself," she said, nudging his shoulder. "Where's your lovely bride? And seriously, what can I do? Put me to work."

"She's finishing getting ready. I think we're in great shape. We are only expecting about 20 people, so there's not that much to do. Mary Margaret wanted it to be 'intimate.' There's one thing you can do. Will you take a walk with me?"

Emma looked down at her kitten heels with distain. Then her eyes suddenly brightened.

"Yes! Give me one sec."

She ran back to her Bug, opened the trunk, and pulled out her overnight bag. She dug out her Uggs, switched into them, and ran back to David in the mismatched attire, carrying her heels in her hands. She tossed them on a white-clothed high-top table and tucked her hand through David's arm, giving him a wink.

He laughed.

"There's the Emma I know."

"Shall we?" the blonde said, smiling.

"Lets go."

* * *

They walked for about five minutes without talking, barely noting the stunning scenery and dramatic vistas—Emma could see David was battling his nerves. She was anxious too, the likelihood of finally seeing Regina making her stomach clench with excitement and fear. She shivered, almost imperceptibly, her bare arms covered in goose bumps from the crisp cold air, and David pulled his tux jacket off and slipped it over her shoulders wordlessly. Emma smiled at the gesture, and eventually, she gave his arm a little squeeze and turned to face him.

"You ok? Are you ready for all this?"

"Yes, I'm ready. It's not that. I don't have any doubts about… her. Regina has teased me mercilessly about the Snow White thing, but Mary Margaret, she's good, and she makes me just… better. I'm insanely, pathetically, stupidly in love with her."

Emma gave him a sloppy sideways grin.

"That's… gross. But also adorable. I could not be happier for you guys. So what's with the pacing and the chewing a hole through your lip? Are you having doubts about getting married, or—"

"—it's not her I doubt. I just hope I don't do something dumb to blow it. You know?"

Emma nodded in understanding.

"Please. Believe me, I know a little bit about self-doubt. But I also know what a good man you are. You are the man who gave a shot to a complete nobody when you had absolutely nothing to gain. Whatever your flaws, you are an incredible, generous person, and I've been so lucky to have you in my life, and so is Mary Margaret. You will be the best husband, Charming."

"Man, you always know how to make me feel better," he said, taking a deep breath. "Emma, what about you? Have you talked to her? What's going on with Regina?"

Emma's face soured, exposing the boney rawness of her emotions.

"You know what? This is _your_ day. After you get back from Wonderland or wherever you're going on your honeymoon, I can dish all the gory details."

David frowned. "Swan. Just spill. At least tell me… do you know if she's coming?"

"You're asking _me_? I thought _you'd_ know," she said, shaking her head. "I haven't spoken to her. I hope she comes. I know she'd be devastated to miss this day."

David slung his arm around her shoulders, steering her back in the direction of the wedding tent.

"Come on. I gotta go get married."

"Lets do it," Emma said.

* * *

By the time they got back to the tower where the wedding was taking place, guests were taking their seats. Emma recognized a few faces—co-workers and chef friends from the restaurant, a group of Mary Margaret's longtime friends who David referred to by personality type (Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey), and a few people Emma didn't know. _But not her_.

Emma walked with David down the aisle and took her place next to him at the altar, the ordained minister, a curly haired doctor friend named Archie, standing to Emma's right. Her eyes again picked through the crowd searchingly. _Where is she_? A small smile was registered on her face, but a thick layer of sadness was settled just under the surface. It was then, waiting for the bride, that Emma realized how much she'd hoped to see her here, how much she'd been counting on it. She had been so sure she'd come. For David.

An eternity passed, and the guests grew cold and restless. Emma began to worry if she should go see if Mary Margaret needed help with her dress or a swift kick in the backside. But then the cellist and violinist, perched discreetly behind the guests, began playing "Air in the G String," and a figure appeared at the top of the aisle.

Emma gasped, and David reached out a hand to her lower back to steady and reassure her.

She took in one part of Regina at a time. The shoulder-length raven hair, the red dress that dipped and plunged and curved wherever it was asked, the smoky eyes cast straight ahead, plump red lips pulled into a meaningless configuration. Regina looked perfect, but she gave nothing away, and that made Emma ache. She waited a beat, and then began to take thin, ladylike steps, fluidly moving ahead, toward Emma, but she wouldn't meet her eyes. With each breath, she drew closer, and the pounding of Emma's heart made it hard to hear anything else.

And then she was before her, right there. Emma could touch her. She desperately wanted to touch her, just the tiniest meeting of skin to remind her of their connection, but she kept her hands stilled at her sides.

Regina gave David a smile and a small kiss to his cheek, whispering something in his ear that made him smile, and she came to a final stop right next to Emma at the altar. Gathering herself, Emma turned her head to the side and looked at Regina again, and that's when she saw it. The swan talisman hung proudly around her neck, blessedly unaware of its own meaning. Understanding danced across Emma's face, and a sound must have escaped her, some auditory proof of her relief, and finally Regina brought her eyes up to meet Emma's. Tears immediately sprung to Regina's brown eyes, seeing the fullness of Emma's warmth and uncertainty, and they lost themselves in the moment.

And then, somewhere in the background the bride appeared, and the crowd got to their feet. There was music, Archie's slow, melodic voice, and then tender promises of love. But it all faded into a fuzzy swirl of motion and sound. Emma only felt a hand reach out for hers, warm, familiar fingers lacing with her own. She heard a sigh, a sharp inhale, and her name crossing Regina's lips.

As the crowd clapped in congratulations, preoccupied with the nuptials before them, the kiss of a newly minted married couple, and the joyful smiles on their faces, Regina turned to Emma and leaned in. So close. Emma dizzied as she felt her breath on her neck and cool skin of her cheek brushing against her jaw.

And in the tiniest hairsbreadth of a whisper, Emma heard the words that she hoped would change everything.

"I love you, Emma."

* * *

They followed David and Mary Margaret down the aisle and into the private area that was set up for the couple. Emma and Regina congratulated them, and Emma took in David's new wife fully for the first time. Her skin looked porcelain against her short, jet-black hair, and a warm blush had settled across her chest and cheeks, resulting from the chill in the air and the excitement of the moment. Her strapless gown was belted at the waist in a thin velvet strap of fabric, making her look slender and sophisticated. Emma whispered in her ear how lovely she looked and how much David loved her, and the redness in her cheeks brightened.

Then she moved to David, hugging him fully.

"You did it. Amazing. Now don't blow it," she said, winking at him.

Regina suddenly appeared with four champagne flutes, handing one to each of them.

"To David and Mary Margaret. I wish you so much happiness in your life together," she said, a broad smile on her face. "I love you guys. Cheers!"

They clinked glasses and drank, and Mary Margaret pulled David outside, rounding up the photographer for pictures before darkness fell and the reception began.

Alone together for the first time in a month, Emma and Regina eyed each other intently, nervously, just a few feet between them, and the air thickened and warmed. Neither spoke for a moment, but Regina breeched the space between them, taking a step closer to Emma. She turned fully to face her and set her glass on the temporary vanity. It took all of Emma's willpower not to collect Regina in her arms and kiss her senseless. But she let Regina take the lead.

"Can I hold your hand?" Regina said with a gravelly voice.

Emma nodded, offering it to her. Regina looked down at the proffered hand with gratitude, gathering it in both of her own. The hand was her conch shell, giving her the permission and courage to find her words.

"Emma. I'm not sure telling you how sorry I am is enough, but it seems like the right place for me to start. If I could go back to that morning in the hotel and give myself more courage, allow myself to fully trust in what we had to face whatever was to come, that's what I would do."

Suddenly the color drained from Emma's cheeks.

"What we _had_?" she said in a tiny voice.

Regina scoffed at herself, but instead of finding words to reassure Emma, she pushed away the last of the space between them and wrapped herself around her, inserting herself fully in her space. She cupped Emma's cheek and met her eyes.

" _Have_. What we have. I can't—I don't want to be without you. I was just so afraid of losing you that I pushed you away. I'm so sorry I hurt you. If you're willing to forgive me for being so weak when you needed me to be strong…"

Tears slid down Emma's cheeks, but she nodded, tenting her head with Regina's.

"I felt empty without you," Emma breathed. "I know we hadn't been together that long, but somehow you changed everything. And without it, I just felt…"

"Lost," Regina said, sadness still thick in her voice. "I felt the same way. Empty. We have a lot to talk about, but tonight, can we just…will you be my date?"

Emma's eyes shone, finally letting the joy sink in.

"You came to a wedding without a date?" she said with a crooked smile.

Regina shook her head.

"Well, there's this blonde. She's gorgeous and talented and smoking hot in bed. She's got me totally whipped," Regina said with a smirk. But then her face melted into a gentle smile. "And I'm so in love with her."

Emma cupped Regina's face and brought their lips together for a soft kiss that lingered, neither of them wanting to pull away. Emma touched the talisman with her fingertips and nudged her nose against Regina's cheek.

"She's so in love with you too," Emma whispered.


	16. Chapter 16

I want to thank you guys for all of your comments and follows. I love hearing from you.

* * *

After the cocktail hour, the wedding party retreated into the tent that had been set up for the reception, a small, makeshift dance floor adorning the center. Emma had expressed doubts to David that the space would be workable for even a small reception. She had plenty of experience catering events over the years, and she initially thought the spot would be too remote to work with. But looking around, she had to hand it to Mary Margaret, stepping inside the tent felt like entering a portal to another world, and Emma was completely enchanted. Dainty glass candelabras adorned the tables and tall white vases housed ladylike White Peony and Calla Lily bouquets, creating a wintry fairytale scene worthy of a princess.

But short of the flowers turning into doves and flying off the tables, nothing could have distracted Emma from Regina orbiting around her. She did everything she could to devote herself to being present at the wedding, to celebrating with their friends, and giving David and Mary Margaret the party they deserved. But every stolen glance, every brush of a hand, every overheard fragment of a conversation was a setback in that endeavor. She was always sexy and beautiful, but tonight, although she looked the tiniest bit thin to Emma, Regina was positively radiant.

She'd hear her nearby making smalltalk with another guest or telling a story, and that velvety voice alone had a dizzying effect. Emma would take a deep breath, sip her champagne, laugh a little more vigorously at a joke, and thrust herself into the moment. But then she'd catch a whiff of that scent she wore and a glimpse of that red dress, and her body and mind would betray her in equal measure.

She should have felt quelled or at least assuaged by their declared feelings for each other, but instead her nerves were itchy, and a million thoughts and questions had chaotically scattered about her mind. _Should she trust someone who was capable of dismantling her with such ease? Could she trust her own instincts_ _?_ _Was Regina really in love with her, or was she just lonely?_ But one persistent, dogged question shouted over all the others, determined to be heard. _Where do they go from here?_

But despite her distractedness, she danced with David and even ate a little dinner, letting her champagne high propel her through the evening.

She was standing at the bar laughing with a red-cheeked David when she felt a hand grip her wrist, pulling her insistently away. Mary Margaret looked apologetically at her new husband as she yanked Emma in the direction of the entrance.

"Sorry, Charming. Wardrobe malfunction. I need backup, STAT!"

Emma shrugged and let herself be led, scampering to keep up with the bride.

Mary Margaret pulled a confused Emma into the coat closet and released her, immediately digging into a little pouch she'd brought along.

"I'm glad to help, but I have to warn you, if it's not edible, I'm not the most useful person. And I got kicked out of the Girl Scouts. So… What's up, buttercup?"

Mary Margaret turned around, unimpressed by Emma's provisos, and pointed ardently to a gaping hole in the back of the dress where a few buttons had popped loose. Then she reached her hand back and opened her fist, showing a handful of safety pins. She held them out to Emma, as if it was obvious what needed to be done.

Emma took them from her hand and took a step toward Mary Margaret.

"You know, you may be better off with Regina. She's really good with this kind of girly stuff. I'm, like, the person you call if your lamb is a little tough or if you need a wine to pair up with penne arrabiata," she said. But Mary Margaret's face remained staunch and impassive, so Emma proceeded. "This seems like some pretty fancy Oscar de la Renta couture shit, so I take no responsibility if I destroy it."

"Emma. I need you. Please, just fix it, and stop talking."

With timid hands, the blonde put a couple of pins between her teeth, opening one and gathering the fabric of the dress together in the space the missing buttons had vacated. She went about creating her makeshift stitch job, doing her best to hide the pins, and finally she felt Mary Margaret relax underneath her as she closed the hole.

"Thank you," the bride muttered.

"Oh, you don't have to thank me. No biggie."

"No. Not for this. For… caring so much, for being such a good friend to David. Believe it or not, I think being friends with you made him a much better person... The kind of person I wanted to marry."

The blonde felt her face flush and her mouth fall open.

"Uh, I'm not sure you can thank me for that either. Of the two of us, he's really been the better friend. I mean… he saved me. I have no idea what would have happened to me, what I could have possibly become if it wasn't for him," Emma said, her voice suddenly thick with emotion. "He saw something in me and he helped me realize it. He's a great guy, and I'm really glad you found each other."

She finished her task and appraised the haphazardly repaired material, smoothing it out and readjusting it across Mary Margaret's curves with brusque, staccato motions.

"There," she breathed. "All good."

Mary Margaret turned around, offering Emma a tender smile.

"You're wrong, Emma. David says you've always been more than you thought you were. He may have appreciated your talent before others really had the chance, but you saw the goodness in him before anyone else did. People thought he was cocky as hell, unreliable, one note. And he was, or at least that's what he says. But not you. You saw him as a brother, a mentor. You'll never know what that mean to him," Mary Margaret said in a soft, silky voice, her brown eyes wide. "You're a special person. Don't sell yourself short."

She breeched the foot of space between them and wrapped the surprised blonde in a chaste hug before tugging up the bustled train of her dress and scurrying out of the coat check. Emma hung back, trying to gather her frayed emotions. She didn't view herself as a fragile person, but lately it took so little to open old wounds, unearth insecurities she thought she had long since buried deep within the recesses of her brain. She dug a compact out of her bag and peered into the mirror with a frustrated sigh, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. _Pull it together, Emma._

She took a few deep breaths and walked out from the closet, meandering into the tent to the edge of the dance floor. She had enough. She just wanted to find Regina, to revel in her.

Emma scanned the tent, wide green eyes searching until they landed on a petite, graceful body, encased in the loveliness of her red dress, fabric that clung and snuggled and revealed and bewitched. Regina was nestled by the bar, and as if she felt eyes upon her, she peered up, finding Emma in an instant. Her face curled into a wide, fully lit smile, and Emma felt something warm and delicious fill her, and she cruised straight ahead, taking long, confident, purposeful strides.

She arrived at Regina at full speed, pinning her back to the bar with an audible _oomph_ , and she let their fronts collide but held her face static just a fraction from Regina's. All the questions and fears that were assaulting her just moments before melted, a hot knife through butter, the tendrils of want and desire creeping and curling into her.

Regina could see it in Emma's eyes and feel it in her body, the acuity of everything she was feeling. And really, it was the thing she loved about her most, the way she would switch from easy going and childlike to passionate and intense in the space of a moment. And she was feeling it, too. After being apart from each other for the better part of a month and thinking she'd never have the chance to touch her again, to talk to her, to love her, and now having her standing right before her—it was overwhelming.

Regina tented their heads together, trying to control her own breathing. She let her hands come to rest on the small of Emma's back, gently sliding her fingers along the silky fibers of Emma's blue dress.

"Emma," Regina whispered.

"Mmm?"

"Will you leave with me? Is it too soon, or—"

"—Lets go," Emma said, lacing their hands together and pulling her toward the spot on the dance floor where David and Mary Margaret were huddled together.

Emma suddenly felt a little awkward, but Regina stepped right in front of them insistently, pulling David by the lapels.

"Mr. and Mrs. Charming," Regina said with a broad smile, "Thank you for a wonderful evening—this is one of the most beautiful weddings I have ever attended. But I think Miss Swan and I will be going, if that's all right."

David looked like he was about to object, but Mary Margaret silenced him with a pointed look. She brought Emma in for a hug and kissed her on the cheek before releasing her and moving to Regina. Emma found herself staring at David with baleful eyes. She leaned into him.

"Is this… ok? I'm sorry if I—"

"Go. I want you to go. You two deserve a moment. We'll talk when we get back."

Emma pulled back to look at him, to see if he meant his words, and he gave her a wink, a small smile dancing across his face.

"Bye, Charming."

"Adios, Swan," he said, nudging her with his hip.

Regina grabbed her hand in her own and pulled her out into the night.

* * *

They drove together, Emma having agreed to pick up her car the next day. The darkness was heavy as they drove through the Blue Hills. Emma didn't know where they were going, but she didn't really care either, so she let Regina drive them without asking any questions.

The car was quiet, but a noisy anticipation had settled between them. Emma took a few heavy breaths, trying to slow her pounding heart back to a regular pace. Regina said nothing, but she pulled Emma's hand into her lap, cradling the digits tenderly. The blonde looked up and studied Regina's face, her eyes steely and determined, a tiny frown nestled at her brow, and Emma wasn't sure what she was seeing.

After just five minutes, Regina turned into the parking lot of a Homewood Suites, slid into a spot, and turned off the ignition. She wordlessly unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door, grabbing a small bag from the trunk before coming around to the passenger side, and opening the door for Emma. She reached out her hand to the blonde, helping her step out of the car, and led the way to the lobby. Emma hung back while Regina checked them in. She couldn't do anything about her racing heart, but she was determined to quiet her mind. Whatever happened, whatever this was, she loved this woman. She knew she did. And she was going to be in this moment, experience it and revel in it, even if it was over all too soon.

Regina returned to her, dipping her head down to catch Emma's green eyes, prying a small smile out of her. They stepped into an elevator and headed up to the fifth floor, eyes cast down, hands still linked. Regina led them to their room, pushed in the key card, and opened the door, tossing her bag on the desk.

Emma stood stock still in the entryway, afraid if she made any sudden moves, she'd wake herself from the dream she was was having. But Regina came to stand in front of her, wordlessly dropping to a knee and helping Emma step out of her heels. She slid her hands up Emma's left ankle and then her right, her fingertips lighting a trail of fire as she went.

She stood, stepping out of her own heels, and coming to her full height in front of Emma. Regina prowled toward her then, pushing her gently backwards until Emma's back hit a wall. She cupped her cheeks with both hands and inched her face closer, leaving Emma breathlessly anticipating a kiss. But she stopped just short of her lips.

"I know I've given you every reason to doubt my words. And I have so many regrets about that. But Emma, being without you, it felt like all the color was just drained out of my life. Everything tasted bland. I—I'm desperately in love with you. And we don't have to do anything right now. We can just be here, together. But if you'll let me, I want to show you how much I love you, so you can _feel_ it," Regina said in a whisper.

A tiny whimper escaped Emma's mouth, and then it was like an explosion. Regina pushed her lips against Emma's, arms wrapping around each other, fingers burrowing into hair, hands roaming, seeking out bare skin. There was tracing and retracing—they were kissing each other with ferocity and need until finally Emma felt a palm square in the chest, pushing her back.

She looked up with heavy lidded eyes, trying to see through a haze of desire. Regina quirked an eyebrow at her and reached for her hand, leading her to the bed. She walked around to stand behind Emma, pulling her hair from her neck so she could kiss and nip the skin there, licking and sucking, making her moan. She reached up to the zipper of Emma's dress and held it between her fingers, wrapping her other arm around Emma's waist.

"Is this ok?" Regina asked.

"Yesss," Emma hissed.

Regina slid the zipper all the way down, pulling the fabric free and smoothing her hands on the exposed, buttery skin of Emma's back. Regina slipped her hands inside to the front of the dress, finding Emma's breasts and cupping them in her hands. She just held them, feeling their weight, pushing her front against Emma's exposed back, the dress falling uselessly to the floor.

"Oh god," Emma whispered, looking down her nearly naked body, but for a thong and a pair of hands covering her breasts. She felt her face flush hotly at the sight.

Regina walked around to Emma's front and unzipped her own dress, leaving her in a skimpy pair of red panties that covered just the tiniest bit of flesh. She tossed the dress to the side with uncharacteristic carelessness, and moved Emma to sit on the bed, climbing onto her lap and straddling her hips.

"Is this still ok? Do you want me to stop?" Regina asked, ghosting a kiss to her lips.

"I _never_ want you to stop," Emma said, her voice gravelly and hoarse with want. "Make me feel you, Regina."

The brunette groaned, wetness pooling between her own legs at Emma's admission.

"Emma, I love you," Regina said, and immediately grabbed the underside of her breast and dipped her head to suck a nipple into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around and around it, suckled it, and then began to bite until she had Emma moaning, her back arched and her head tipped back. By the time she had Emma's other breast in her mouth, the blonde began to mutter and whimper, and Regina couldn't help but smile against her.

She stayed on her lap but wriggled a hand in between their heated bodies, let her fingers drag down from her belly button, through the short, fine hairs on her public bone, and into the wetness should found between her thighs. Someone groaned and whimpered at the sensation, but neither was sure who. As she let her fingers slide and dance carelessly through her folds, Regina kissed Emma fiercely, possessing her lips in a heated kiss.

"I love you," she said again, sliding off her lap and down to the floor, hooking Emma's legs over her shoulders. Emma felt Regina's tongue enter her and then run tantalizingly slowly around her clit. And then she felt Regina enter her with two fingers, finding her so wet that she added a third.

"Regina!" she gasped. "Please. Please, don't stop. You feel... so good." Emma looked down to watch what Regina was doing to her, and it was almost too much. She was somehow all-consuming and yet not enough all at once. Her heart was pumping wildly—she felt on fire. The brunette was lost in Emma's body, reveling in every grunt and and murmur, in her scent, in the way she tasted, in how she felt. She thrust in and out of her with her fingers and then finally sucked her clit into her mouth and nibbled and pulled and sucked again until she felt Emma's body wriggle and throb and tense around her. Emma cried out, overcome with feeling and ecstasy.

Regina had never felt anything like it—Emma's walls actually pulsed around her hand and then wetness coated her face and fingers as the orgasm pulled her under.

Regina was so lost in the moment that she continued to lick and lap at Emma relentlessly, keeping her fingers buried inside her, and before she knew it, Emma was twitching and pulsing once again.

She came out from between her legs and climbed on top of Emma, whose body was still quaking, reeling in the aftershocks. Regina moved all the way up her body and kissed her, pulling back and waiting for Emma to open her eyes.

"You cheated," Emma said, her words long and lazy. "You used some kind of witchcraft. You touched me here and I felt it… everywhere."

Regina laughed.

"That's not magic, baby," she said, shaking her head. "That's my love."

"Oh," Emma said.


	17. Chapter 17

Emma and Regina are going to share their pasts with each other so they can take the next step in their relationship. Warning that this won't follow canon, but after last night's finale, screw the canon. Ours is so much better! I love hearing from you, so shoot me a review!

* * *

Emma's stomach had a way of demanding attention at inopportune moments. In culinary school it happened in the middle of several lectures and two cooking demos and had garnered enough attention that some of her classmates knew her as Grumbles, a despised nickname she somehow managed to shed after graduation. On the rare occasion August would dust it off from the archives, she would return the favor, calling him Pinnokes, referencing his uncanny ability to lie his face off to professors and sometimes women in an effort to wiggle out of assignments or score a date.

But a noisy stomach is normal, Emma reasoned, for anyone who spends their life thinking about, making, or tasting food. Still, it didn't make it any less embarrassing when her stomach began to howl in the middle of round three, Regina and Emma with their faces buried in each other. The blonde felt her stomach rumble and thought she may have gone undiscovered until Regina began to laugh into her, a low, vibrating giggle that immediately pulled Emma from the moment. She pried her head up like a flamingo from the sand and shot Regina a snarl.

"Are you _laughing_ at me?"

Regina said nothing, her chuckle growing louder and more firm.

"I'll give you something to laugh about, bitch!"

Emma immediately got up, turned around, and straddled Regina's hips and began tickling her in the ribs until the brunette was squealing and howling with laughter. Regina threw her hands in front of her, trying her best to stop Emma's assault, but the blonde was too strong for her.

"Please! Stop! Emma! I—I hate—being… tickled!"

"Beg my indulgence, Your Majesty," Emma said with a smirk, slowing but continuing her thorough tickle torture.

Regina huffed but relented.

"Please! Please, stop! I beg your indulgence, Miss Swan."

Emma stilled her hands and leaned in closer to Regina, smoothing a thumb over the kiss-bruised lips she loved.

"Somebody's hungry," Regina said, her face pulling into a crooked smile.

"Normally I would have hit that wedding food pretty hard, but somebody took me off my game," Emma said, planting an accusatory finger squarely in her chest.

"We better feed the beast then," Regina said. "The options are pretty limited in the middle of the night out here."

Emma pouted, but then her eyes widened, suddenly overtaken by a jolt of inspiration. She disappeared into the bathroom and returned in a white tank top and black boy shorts. She grabbed her wallet and a key card, tossed a wink at Regina, and left the hotel room, only to appear moments later with her arms filled with an assortment of vending machine delicacies.

Regina raised an amused eyebrow and slid off the bed to grab a robe from the closet. Emma yanked the white comforter off the bed and laid it on the floor, scattering the treats into the middle unceremoniously, plopping herself down among the treasures.

As Regina approached, Emma looked up with a cockeyed grin, patting the empty space beside her enticingly.

"Carpet picnic?" Emma asked, as Regina sidled up to her. "What's your poison, mi'lady?"

Regina scoffed.

"Nothing in that pile, I can assure you. And I'm surprised a chef of your caliber and sophistication would eat peanut butter crackers and Goldfish."

"Oh, I don't. I got those for you. Those are the healthy snacks. _These_ are for me," she said, holding up two Little Debbie Swiss Rolls triumphantly.

Regina shook her head, trying to suppress an amused smile.

"Such a child," Regina said, as Emma unwrapped the cakey chocolate from the package and took and enormous bite.

"Mmm, dat's tho goob, and door nah gebbing ebby," the blonde said with her mouth full.

Regina giggled and surveyed the pile and retrieved a bag of almonds, pulling open the bag and popping a few in her mouth.

"Come on, Regina. Live on the wild side," Emma said, approaching the brunette with the chocolate pinch between her fingers. "Close your eyes… Ok, now open up."

Regina obediently opened her mouth and waited, closing her lips around the cake. Emma pulled it back and put some of the filling on her finger, prompting Regina to open her mouth once again. She put her finger inside her lips, and Regina sucked on it eagerly.

"Mmm, I admit. That's good," Regina said.

Emma smiled at how cute she was, a smudge of chocolate on her cheek, her hair mussed from hours of lovemaking.

"That was my absolute favorite treat when I was a kid. I would buy them with my allowance and hide them, so the other kids in my foster home wouldn't steal them from me," Emma said with a dry laugh.

The little smile that had snuggled on Regina's face suddenly slipped away, and a tiny frown appeared at her brow. She took a deep breath and flexed her jaw. Regina reached out a hand and placed it on Emma's thigh.

"Emma, tell me. Tell me what it was like," Regina said, her words thick and purposeful.

Emma sobered quickly at Regina's words, placing her half-eaten snack back in its packaging on the blanket. She looked at her girlfriend with wide, uncertain eyes.

"Honestly, it's not a pretty story, Regina. There's a lot of stuff in there that I've buried so deep, even things I've never spoken out loud," she said, her voice suddenly roughed with sandpaper and etched with remorse.

"Ok, I understand, we don't have to go there," Regina said, a hint of hurt etched in her features. She was quiet for a moment, her eyes cast down. But then she looked up, suddenly determined. "You know what? No. I want to know you, even the painful parts. Will you…I want you let me in. If you're ready."

Emma examined Regina carefully. She'd only shared bits and pieces of her past with David and Ruby, and even then just one-off stories. And the worst of it had long since been hidden away, even from herself. She didn't want to wallow in it because she knew plenty of kids who had it much worse. Plus, she couldn't change it now.

But Regina's expression was so sincere, so loving that she wished she could just reach into herself, pull out her most painful memories, and hand them over in neatly wrapped box, tied with a bow. She wanted to share them with Regina, but she didn't want to have to relive those moments. They were memories of a child who felt unlovable, abandoned by the world, and let down by the adults in her life. That felt like another person. Another world. And she didn't want to look back.

But she looked at the woman beside her, sitting in her bathrobe in the middle of night with chocolate on her face. She was suddenly overcome by the sensation that this person right here next to her was the love of her life, her chance to discover the kind of happiness that people like her—with the kind of start she had in life—had slim odds to find.

She wanted to move forward with Regina, so she knew she had to do this. To get to the other side, to get to the next stage in their relationship, they had to cross this threshold where they shared their painful pasts with each other. And she could start. She could do this. She was strong now. She filled her lungs with air and placed her palm upon the hand on her leg, giving it a squeeze. She raised her other hand and wiped the chocolate clean of Regina's face and smoothed her cheek.

"Ok. Just, bear with me. I'm… I'm not exactly sure where to begin."

Regina returned the squeeze to her hand, bringing it up to kiss the knuckles before returning the linked hands to their resting spot on Emma's leg.

"I don't know who my parents were, but I was born in Maine, and they abandoned me as a newborn. I've been told things about how I was found and why they left me and all that, but I don't know how plausible those stories are or how much of it to believe. It all starts to feel like mythology anyway, like it happened to someone else," Emma said, hugging her knees into her chest.

"I didn't realize until first grade that most kids had moms and dads and didn't live in different houses, like, every year. But in those early years, I was kind of ok. I was fed and clothed. I was skinny and quiet, really kind of stuck in my shell—I hardly talked. In fact, I heard one of my foster moms describe me as the mute one. That was until I turned four, and I was moved to a home where I met this other girl. Lily. She was my best friend, like a sister to me. Total firecracker. We did everything together, and she helped me kind of find my voice, you know? We were each other's shadow. And then one weekend, when I was 11, I went running to her room to find her, and she wasn't there. They told me she'd been adopted. Just like that, she was taken away from me. I cried for weeks. I wouldn't eat. I begged to see her, for her to come back, but I…I never saw her again," Emma said, a couple of stray tears finding their way down her face.

"I was in eight foster families by the time I was 14. Most of the families were ok and just wanted the help around the house or the money. But some of them… there was abuse—physical and emotional. But I escaped the worst of it. I got really good at, like, playing dead, you know? Sometimes there was no food for me, but I think I was honestly more starved for love—" Emma said, the word itself like a clap of dust to the pain deep in her heart.

Tears began trickling down Emma's cheeks in earnest, and Regina's face clouded with a dark, angry shadow, her blood bubbling with hatred toward these animals who neglected and hurt Emma. She looked at the strong, beautiful woman in front of her, trying to picture a skinny, knobby-kneed blonde girl, hair in a ponytail, wide green eyes, and she couldn't imagine someone wanting to to do anything other than hold her, protect her, and love her. Regina thumbed away the tears and leaned in to kiss her cheeks, letting her lips linger on each side. When she pulled back, Emma gave her a faint smile.

"But I had one foster mom. When I was 15. She was really into cooking shows. She wasn't the best cook in the world, but she had five foster kids, and she'd cook for all of us. She asked me to help her because I was the oldest, and we'd watch these shows together—Barefoot Contessa, Giada, Rachel Ray, whatever was on—and I loved it. I became kind of obsessed with it, actually, and I started experimenting with cooking, reading everything I could find. I obviously couldn't afford to go to restaurants and actually taste different foods, but I learned everything I could get my hands on. My foster mother eventually let me take over, and I would make meals for the week whenever I had free time to cook."

"So that's when I got a job at a restaurant and then another and another. I needed to make money, and I wanted to be around the food. And then finally I met David. That's when everything changed. That was the beginning of my journey, really, when I began to figure out who I was. Through the food, really."

"So that's my sad tale of woe. But I also got some really lucky breaks along the way," Emma said, regarding Regina more fully for the first time since she started talking. She looked at the brunette pointedly, adding, "and I think I have a pretty great shot a happy ending."

Emma gave her a crooked smile, but Regina's eyes were cast down, and she seemed to be lost somewhere in her own mind. Emma suddenly wondered if she'd shared too much. She wasn't sure what she was seeing in those brown eyes, so she stilled, waiting for Regina to do or say something.

As the seconds ticked on, Emma's uncertainty grew, but then Regina seemed to pull out of her reverie and locked onto green eyes. She turned to face Emma and pulled her knees from her chest.

Regina reached down at Emma's waist and grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head, tossing it in the direction of the bed, leaving her girlfriend naked from the waist up. The blonde looked at her, feeling surprised and a little exposed, but she just opened her own robe and pulled Emma onto her lap facing her. She tugged her in further so their skin was flush against each other, and then she wrapped the robe around the blonde so they were burrowed in their own tiny little world.

Their bodies adhered to one another, their breasts and bellies smashed together in an effort to get as close to one another as possible. Together their skin was so warm, so soft, and Emma felt so… safe. Regina hung her chin over Emma's shoulder, and a few hot tears landed on the skin of her back. Reaching her arms around Regina's back under the robe, she rubbed soothing circles with the palms of her hands.

"You amaze me. You are the bravest person I have ever met, Emma," Regina whispered.

Emma wanted to tell Regina she was brave too, to compel her to share her own story so they would be on even footing, so they could cross this bridge together. The words were on the tip of her tongue. She desperately wanted to say them. But she stopped herself, and instead she let Regina cry, just holding her for long minutes that suspended time and let them pause the world.

Finally she felt Regina suck in a deep breath.

"My mother used to say that love is weakness. But it's you make me feel so strong—stronger than I've ever felt," Regina said, her voice hoarse from crying.

"Regina, you are so strong. I've never met someone with as much strength and conviction—"

"I act strong, Emma. There's a difference."

She pulled her head back to once again look at Emma's face, dropping a gentle kiss on her lips. "So, I guess it's my turn then."


	18. Chapter 18

Hi everybody. This chapter was a tough one to write and doesn't follow Regina/Cora's canon, so I'd love your feedback. I guess a few trigger warnings for minor character death and just generally painful childhood stories. I hope you guys are still with me and liking this story. Love to know what you think. XO

* * *

Heavy silence settled between them, and Regina's body language was so uncharacteristic—hunched over and fidgety—that Emma thought about retreating. It would be so easy. She could just reach across and pull Regina into her lap, kiss her, make love to her, and leave all these confessions and uncomfortable discussions for another day. Or they could just forget it—why should their pasts impact their present or future, Emma reasoned. They could just keep making each feel good, not dwell on the pain of their respective childhoods.

But just as she was about to pull the brunette from the hot seat, opening her mouth to offer her a reprieve, Regina met Emma's eyes, took a shuddering breath, and began to talk in soft but fluid sentences.

"The earliest part of my life, at least what I can remember of it, was really quite wonderful—my mother and father loved me, and I wanted for very little, including affection. My parents—Henry and Elizabeth—were like the king and queen of the culinary scene in Boston for many years. They had a million friends, and my father owned two successful restaurants, which my mother helped him run.

"They were very much in love," Regina said, her eyes cast down at the blanket beneath them. "My mother was so beautiful and so full of energy. And she loved me fiercely. Being in her love was like have sunshine on your face."

"She wasn't like any other mother I ever met, even to this day. She would do crazy things sometimes, like wake me up in the middle of the night to take me horseback riding or to have a snowball fight and hot chocolate with marshmallows. And my father was just enchanted by her. His face would literally light up when she walked into the room, and it was incredible growing up cast in that kind of love. I was like a potted plant sitting under a window that let in so much sun that I couldn't help by thrive, even though they were very busy, and my nanny did most of the watering."

Regina smiled to herself and then took a steadying breath. When she spoke again, her words were sandy and dry, and Emma could see it was a battle to get them out.

"But then, when I was 6, she stayed late to close one of the restaurants one night, and she was blindsided by a drunk driver on her way home. She was killed instantly—her car crashed into a pole on the driver's side," she said, her eyes inching up at the gasp that escaped Emma.

"Oh, god. _Regina_. I had no idea," Emma said, her voice just above a whisper.

The brunette just nodded, pulling in another deep breath before she continued.

"To say my father was devastated… that doesn't really cover it. He grew distant and withdrawn. He was broken. As hard as it was losing her, it was almost harder watching him dissolve, become a shell of himself. Seeing how he evaporated before my eyes made me realize how vulnerable you become when you _really_ love someone—when you give your heart to someone so completely. I felt so alone. It was hard enough to cope with the idea that I would never see her again, but without him—"

Her voice cracked but she fought to regain her composure, her eyes connecting with Emma's briefly to find the courage to continue. She found Emma's eyes damp with tears—as hard as her own life had been, the idea of having been born into so much love but having it taken away was almost more than the blonde could imagine. She reached across the blanket and placed her hand gently on Regina's thigh to be a presence in an effort to comfort them both.

"I had one very close friend, Kathryn—you met her at the hotel that day. She lived close by, but otherwise I was left to mourn my mother's death on my own, and the house was just filled with sadness—all that sunlight was gone."

"But then he very suddenly married Cora. She was the new woman he had hired to run his restaurants, and she was very good at her job. I had barely even heard her name before she moved in. I had just turned 7. She was so beautiful and young, and at first she was nice to me," Regina said, shaking her head sadly. "But my mother's death cast a very big, very dark shadow, especially over my father's heart, and he withheld his love and affection from Cora, and I think that really broke her spirit. He grew to resent her, even though it wasn't her fault."

"And over time, she grew cold and eventually cruel. I tried to hide away from her as much as possible. I would go to Kathryn's house and stay there for long stretches of time, until someone noticed I was gone. But eventually, everything I loved—books, horses, my father… Cora would try to keep me from all of these things. She was bitter and spiteful, and my father was hardly around to see what was happening."

"I focused all my energy on studying and excelling in school so I could get out of that house as quickly as possible. I graduated with honors at 17, a year early. I applied and was excepted to our alma mater, and I thought I would never look back. And for a moment there, I was sure I had escaped," Regina said, a dark, wistful expression cast across her face.

"I met Daniel my first semester at school. He was so sweet and hardworking. And really he was the first person I had ever really had romantic feelings for, and even though he didn't really know the darker parts of me, I felt safe with him. I loved him. But when Cora found out, she immediately began threatening him, saying she'd file statutory rape charges—"

"—Shit, you were only 17," Emma said, the full picture finally coming together.

"Yes. And I knew she wasn't bluffing. I had three months till my birthday, and she knew it. She just became a leech, even hiring a detective at one point, making threats, calling him in the middle of the night. Daniel was poor. He was on scholarship, so even just charges against him would have ruined his life. I tried to stay away from him. I told him we just needed to get through those three months," Regina said, tears suddenly streaming down her face and her hands kneading at a stray thread hanging from the blanket.

Emma moved to sit directly across from Regina, slinging her legs over the brunette's lap and taking her hands in her own.

"Regina, it's ok. You can stop. You don't have to—"

"I do," Regina whispered, casting a pained look at Emma that made her stomach tighten and clench.

Emma brought their linked hands up to her face and smoothed the back of Regina's against her cheek.

"Daniel became paranoid, desperate. David told me he wasn't eating or sleeping, and I started to worry that he was going to ruin his grades and his life over this, because of me and my messed up family. So one night I snuck over to his house—I had to see him for myself, make sure he was ok. I couldn't bare the thought that he was destroying himself because of me. And we made love," Regina said, her voice hoarse from the strain and bile in her throat. "And Cora got her spies to send her pictures. They had pictures of us embracing, kissing—naked pictures. About a week later, she had copies of the pictures sent to his house, and he didn't sleep. He was scared to death. He was so overmatched."

"That night, he went to go to work, and she was waiting for him outside his house. She told him she was coming after him. I'll never know if she actually drove him off the road or if she just quite literally scared him out of his mind, but he crashed his car and flipped over a median, and Henry became fatherless before I even knew he existed," Regina said, a cry escaping her throat.

Emma pulled Regina into her arms, holding her fiercely, wishing she could do anything to take the pain of these horrific memories away. Regina burrowed her face under Emma's chin and began to shake and shudder and sob. Emma rubbed slow, soothing circles along her upper back, rocking her gently like a baby.

"He died because of me," Regina whispered in a tiny voice. "If I hadn't gone there that night—"

"—You wouldn't have Henry," Emma said. "Regina, as tragic and painful as that was, I don't think there's anything in the world you could have done to change it. I'm so desperately sorry that happened to you. I wish I could do something to erase it. I'd give anything to reverse it so you would never have lost him and—"

And suddenly Regina was pulled out of her grief, thrown back into the present, and she yanked her head up and looked at Emma pointedly.

"—But then I wouldn't have you. And I know I'm a mess, but just so it's clear… I've never felt the way I feel about you—with anyone—and I would never want to change that. Do you hear me, Emma? I'm desperately in love with you. For the first time in a very long time, when I'm with you I feel like the sun is on my face again."

Emma looked at Regina—the two of them literally and figuratively stripped bare—and she suddenly felt a courage and certainty that she had only ever known when it came to her profession. She thought about the last months and everything that had happened between them to lead them to this moment—their instant attraction, falling for each other in a whirlwind, being abruptly pulled apart, and ultimately finding their way back to each other.

The hotel room suddenly felt like a crucible where all their worst fears and painful pasts could be incinerated, relegated to dust that would just blow away, leading them to move forward together free of the emotional turmoil that had been so debilitating.

Doubts were cast aside, and she pulled Regina into her, laying her down on the blanket and removing the last of the barriers between them. She laid her body on top of Regina's and kissed her with all the intensity and passion she could conjure and convey.

"I haven't had much chance to love anyone, so I'm a bit of a novice, but I know I love you. I've really never been more sure about anything. But I am sure I belong here with you," Emma said, cupping Regina's face reverently. "Whatever happens, it's you and me, ok?"

The brunette nodded, a chuckle bubbling up from her chest.

"We are quite the pair," Regina said, a small smile creeping back onto her face.

Emma threw her head back and laughed. But then her smile evened out and she looked at Regina with curious green eyes.

"What happens now?" she asked in a voice that was nervous but hopeful.

Regina curled a strand of Emma's blonde hair around her finger, playing aimlessly as she thought for a moment.

"Well, I know what I _want_ to happen. I want to go back to Storybrooke and spend ever possible minute with you. And when you feel ready, and assuming Henry is on board, I want you to move in with me. I want this to be real," Regina said, tapping Emma's nose with the tip of her forefinger. "Is that something you'd want?"

Emma felt the blood rushing to her face and smirked at her own enthusiasm.

"Honestly, I can't think of anything I want more. But I admit, I've never had a family or been in a steady long-term relationship. I hope living with me wouldn't ruin what we have," Emma said.

"What, do you turn into an ogre when there's a full moon? Do you leave your dirty dishes in the sink? Mix the colors with the darks?" Regina said, a crooked grin pulling at her face.

"Actually, nothing like that. Being in so many group homes, you had to really be disciplined and what little you had was kept in perfect order. So I'm actually pretty neat. I've just never been accountable for anyone other than myself, and no one has ever really looked out for me," Emma said, her voice cracking with nervous energy.

"That makes sense. But honestly, honey, beside Henry, I've never really had that either. I was so young when I was with Daniel, and we never had the chance to live together," she said. "Listen, there's no rush. We can take our time. We're not following anyone's rules anyway, so we'll do what feels right to us. I just want to be with you as much as possible. I want to know everything about you, and for the first time in my life I want someone to know me. I mean, if you want that too."

Emma grinned.

"I do. If for no other reason than you are the sexiest woman I have ever seen and I want to touch you as much as possible," Emma said, letting her hand smooth along a slender waist and anchor at her hip.

Regina's eyes narrowed, twinkling with mischief.

"Is that so? What exactly would you like to touch, Emma?"

"Oh man. How many places do I get to choose?"

"You have a list?"

"Oh, hell yes. I've had a lot of time to myself to fantasize about your body for the last month or so," Emma admitted with a blush.

Regina sucked in a breath at the admission, her face suddenly serious.

"You fantasize about me?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what I do in your fantasies."

Emma covered her face with her hands, but Regina pried them off.

"We have just shared our deepest, darkest memories with each other. This is the good stuff. Tell me, Emma."

"Ok. I mean, most of my fantasies about you are just about you, you know? You body. Making love to you. But I do have some other fairly adventurous fantasies about you, but I'm not really sure it fits the mood right now. Right now I just really want to hold you in my arms. What if I promise you a fantasy confessional rain check?"

"Hmm, I might be inclined to accept. On the condition that we will fulfill said fantasies and perhaps a few of my own as well."

Emma quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Whatever you say, your majesty. Now come here," Emma said, pulling Regina up so they could throw the blanket back on the bed and climb into it.

Regina shifted over to the middle to make room for Emma, turning to face the window, the blonde sliding in behind her and curling around her body. Emma nuzzled her face into Regina's hair, wrapped her arm around her body and tucked her arm between Regina's breasts.

She let out a tired, satisfied sigh and let her eyes flutter closed. Just as sleep was claiming her she heard the words again that she knew she'd never tire of hearing.

 _I love you._


	19. Chapter 19

So this starts off super sweet and lovely. And then, I'm not sure what happened, but holy NSFW. But it's almost New Year's, so what else is there to do but kick off 2016 with a bang. (Sorry for the pun.) Love to hear from you guys. So send me some love. Happy New Year, XO.

* * *

She doesn't notice it at first. In fact, she doesn't really notice it at all. It is Henry, who mentions it casually after dinner, to make her see.

Emma joined them for Sunday dinner, as she does now, working in tandem with her girlfriend in the kitchen to make the meal, browning the chicken while Regina chops cilantro and apricots, effortlessly talking and laughing over chicken tangine and apple turnovers at the dining room table.

They teased Henry about his new "not girlfriend," they shared their dream jobs (Henry wanted to be a fantasy and sci-fi novelist, Emma said she is living hers at Saviors, and Regina admitted Emma may have her dream job as well). They shared easy smiles, and Regina squeezed Emma's knee under the table when she, momentarily, got lost in thought.

As they finish eating, Henry announced he'd left his Algebra II homework for the last minute, resulting in a deep and scornful frown line breeching the smooth skin of his mother's brow. But before Regina could begin her reproachful refrain—the one that Henry (and now Emma) knew by heart about how being a man means acting like one—Emma jumped up to help him.

"This is going to shock the hell out of both of you, but I'm a freaking wizard at Algebra. Hen, we totally got this. Regina, I'll run up and help him with this and be back down to clean up from dinner in two seconds," Emma said, offering a winning smile on Henry's behalf.

Regina tried. She really did. But in spite of her efforts to keep her cheeks taut and firm, her lips twitched into a smile, and she tilted her face sideways to take in her girlfriend's adorable face.

"Mmmm. We'll see about that, Miss Swan," she said, her breath catching slightly when Emma shot her a wink. She turned back into the kitchen, never feeling Henry's eyes on her, taking in his mother's demeanor with delight and affection.

The pair returned 30 minutes later, chatting animatedly about the new Star Wars movie, which Emma had promised to take him to see on opening night. And then it was Regina's turn to marvel, recognizing for the first time the depth of the attachment her son and girlfriend had developed and how real it had become between them.

Emma announced she had to leave around 9:30. Although she'd been sleeping at Mifflin Street regularly, when she had a big party to prepare for at the restaurant or had to do early inventory, she sometimes still crashed at her apartment.

Henry gave her a hug goodbye, and Regina watched as Emma reached up without much thought and tussled his hair affectionately.

"Later, Pythagoras," Emma said, watching as the teenager bounded out of the room and into the kitchen. Then she turned her attention fully toward Regina, taking in the warm smile that reached up to her eyes.

Just like it had when they first met, Emma's body reacted to Regina, her heart rate inching up a few beats, a warmth spreading across her chest. When she was in proximity, Emma found it hard not to be touching her, a finger grazing a knee, a kiss ghosting her jaw, a hand combing through her hair. No matter how well she got to know her, Emma wasn't sure she would ever settle on the fact that she could call this gorgeous, sophisticated woman hers.

Regina planted her hands at Emma's hips, walking her backward into the wall next to the front door until she had her pinned, diving nose-first into the hollow of her throat to nuzzle and kiss, mumbling sweetly into her warm skin.

"Regi-nah," Emma says in a tone that's more of a turn on than a deterrent.

"Hmmm?" Regina muttered as she nipped at Emma's jaw, kissing lightly up to the corner of her mouth.

"You're not making it easy for me to leave, woman," Emma whispered.

Regina looked at her impassively, thumbing undaunted at the clean line of Emma's collar bone.

"Why would I do that, when all I want is to be the cause of several mind-blowing orgasms, curl up next to your insanely beautiful naked body, and hold you until the sun comes up?"

Emma sighed into her.

"You. Are. Evil. I seriously have to go, though. I have to be at work so early, and all my work stuff is at home. Plus I need to shower and—"

Regina silenced Emma with a heavy kiss, soft, pliant lips moving firmly against her, drawing her in, opening her up.

"On the left side of my wardrobe, there is a drawer. Inside that drawer is a clean uniform, a few of your bandanas, a brand new package of your favorite underwear (not to mention mine), and a pair of your kitchen clogs. Why don't you go on and take a hot shower, and I will finish straightening up? I will bring you a taste of my cider, and I promise not to keep you up late."

Emma went to speak, but the mirth in Regina's expression was infectious, and shook her head and turned toward the stairs, pausing only to slap the brunette's ass as she walked by.

Regina squealed and then watched her ascend up to the master suite. She stood there rooted in her spot for a moment, letting the happiness just lap away at her insides. It had been two months since David and Mary Margaret's wedding, and with each passing week, she felt Emma occupy more of her home, her family, and her heart. This love with Emma, she burned for it.

She gathered herself and returned to the kitchen where Henry was drying the dishes. Regina picked up a towel wordlessly and began drying next to him, the two of them contentedly occupying the same space in comfortable quiet for a while until Henry jostled her from her thoughts.

"You're the same. But you're different, It's weird," Henry said flatly, almost to himself.

Regina turned to look at him, taking in the gentle smile that was settled on his face.

"Different how?" she asked him.

"Like, softer, I guess. Kind of like, the way you always were with me, you're pretty much like that all the time now. It just feels really good to be around you, like your happiness is contagious," he said, a hard period on the end of his sentence.

Regina's expression softened around her eyes and mouth, and she considered his words. She knew he was right, and wasn't the only one who noticed.

Regina's editor wrote her a note highlighted at the top of the last story she filed, on the version he sent with his tracked changes. It read: _"_ _R_ _—_ _You_ _'_ _ve swapped wry and biting for sincere and compelling. Big upgrade. RIP Evil Queen?_ _—_ _GH_ _"_

She had scoffed at the note, but looking at the sincerity in Henry's face now, she knew this love had redefined her life.

There had been major changes. In the last two months, Regina was seeing friends more, taking yoga classes at a local studio, and she even started cooking again, delighting in being in the kitchen, conjuring new and creative takes on old standbys. She'd try fusing ethnic influences, adding Thai chilies to Swedish meatballs in what Emma eloquently said was "the best fucking thing she'd had in her mouth all week."

But it was in the tiniest gestures, the ones she didn't think twice about, (that are less about what she can get and more about what she can give) where she had let her guard down most completely.

Tightening Emma's scarf more firmly around her before she braves the cold. Throwing on her Uggs and running out in the freezing cold late on a Sunday night to leave a thermos of butternut squash soup with apple and ginger on the passenger seat of her Bug because she knows Emma forgets to eat on Mondays. Jotting down possible revisions in the margins of Emma's recipe notebooks. Taking note of Emma's nervousness around the mouth when she's stressed or uneasy and mindlessly rubbing the inside of her wrist with her thumb.

Making Emma happy made her feel lighter somehow. After nearly two decades of switching from one antidepressant to another and clawing her way out of prolonged periods of emptiness, Regina felt an ease, a warmth in her belly, that she'd never known. A persistent voice from within pleaded with her to guard her heart, but she emphatically swatted it away, knowing that whatever she was risking was far inferior to what she stood to gain.

Henry watched his mother carefully as her expression registered his words, and then he turned to leave.

"Wait, Henry. What would you think if I—"

A grin split across his face.

"—Ask her, Mom. Ask her."

Regina reached out and hauled Henry in for a hug, burying her head his shoulder. She looked up at him with bleary-eyed gratitude.

"Really?" she whispered.

"I love her too," Henry said. "She's amazing."

Regina gasped and could only choke back her tears, brushing the hair from Henry's face lovingly.

"You're not so bad either, Henry Mills."

He shot her one last toothy grin and then headed up to his bedroom, leaving his mother to wonder if her fortunes had finally changed.

* * *

Emma stepped out of the shower, pulled a towel around her body, her eyes sweeping across the bathroom vanity, warming instantly at the sight. Amidst Regina's tidy assortment of makeup, brushes, and hair products were a dozen of her own belongings that had accumulated over recent weeks—her subtler shades of lipstick and eyeliner, a handful of hair ties, her curling iron, and two bandanas she liked to wear in the kitchen. In the corner of the mirror was a note she'd left Regina in lipstick on a morning she had to leave particularly early for work.

 _R_

 _I didn_ _'_ _t want to wake you. You looked too perfectly peaceful. And hot. But if I had woken you, I would have said what I was thinking. Which is that I am hopelessly in love with you._

 _E_

Emma smirked at her own words. Where had this sappy romantic been hiding? Somehow the snarky smartass had been replaced by this soft, gooey version of herself.

Ruby called her on it at work earlier in the week. The restaurant crowd was light, and the dinner rush had subsided by 8 p.m. Normally, Emma would be concerned, worriedly checking and double checking the reservations for the rest of the week. But instead she sat on a bar stool looking off into space, mindlessly looping a curl around her fingers.

It was a raspy chuckle from behind her that pulled her back to reality.

"Yes, Ruby? How many I help you?"

"Oh, Emma. In the state you're in, I'm pretty sure you are not going to be much help to anybody. Except your girlfriend maybe. I'm pretty sure you can help her with some stuff."

"And what state is that, Red?"

"Uh, how about dizzy, stumbling drunk in love? How about whipped? How about you want to marry Regina Mills and have her babies… or however you lesbians do."

Emma laughed, blood rushing to her face.

"Ick. That sounds gross. Sorry," Emma said bashfully.

"Don't apologize. It's amazing. You're like a Care Bear version of yourself. Rainbow Swan. Enjoy it. You earned it."

But a cloud rolled over Emma's face, and her brow tilted into a frown.

"Shit. I've just been so into my own head. No, I can't be. That's not— I don't want to be some co-dependent, lovesick—"

Ruby grabbed Emma's hands, which were suddenly swirling through the air, moving with her mouth at an alarming rate.

"—Emma. Shut up a second… I've known you a while, loved you for a long time. You're the best friend I have in this world. But you've always had this… Like we'd be talking about the most drunk we ever got off red wine or debating whose the most sexy/ugly person we've ever had sex with, and you'd just… disappear. Poof! You'd be there one minute and gone the next. And I always chalked it up to how much pain you had to endure in your childhood and how you had to grow up so goddamn fast on your own. But now. I see you with her, and you're more present than you have ever been. You're so vibrant, so alive."

"You're not co-dependent. You're just buzzing and in love, and I think I was wrong. You just needed to find that person who helped you see that you hadn't been emotionally stunted. That you were actually amazingly competent in the capacity to love someone with your whole heart. Which, not to brag, but I kind of knew that already…"

Emma had just beamed at her. Because she did love Regina that way. With her whole heart, nothing left behind, undaunted by how exposed she was.

She'd noticed that Regina was starting to cook again, caught on to how good she was, how clever and quick on her feet. And, most importantly, how joy she brought to it. So she'd accidentally leave a tab open on her computer with an intricate Filipino recipe with a Spanish influence, like one particular fiery pork strips sautéed in garlic, which, when she'd walked through the door at 9 p.m., wafted through the kitchen into the foyer. She'd stroll into the kitchen, trying to keep her face neutral, feigning surprise that Regina had concocted something so spectacular as she opened her mouth for a taste.

Looking beyond the lipsticked words, Emma gazed at her own reflection, mindlessly drying her hair with a towel. People had always called her an old soul, which she felt sure was code for prematurely worn down by life. And maybe it was her imagination, but she looked young, a light blush collected at her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat of the shower.

* * *

She felt light fingertips at the small of her back, grazing upward along the knobs of her spine.

"You're stunning," Regina breathed.

Emma turned around, giving the brunette and kiss on the cheek.

"Aw, shucks," she said with a wink.

Regina shook her head, pulling Emma into her body, using the tips of her fingers to tilt her chin to meet her eyes.

"I'm serious. I can't explain what it does to me to see your naked body. And I'm a writer. Every time I think I know what this is," she said, gesturing between them, "you do something or say something. Or you just stand there, so unassuming, with no goddamn idea how fucking beautiful you are. And I realize that actually I have no idea yet what this is, what it's capable of becoming. But I do know one thing. I don't want to wake up one more morning without a mop of blonde curls taking over my pillow. Move in with us. Make this our home. Share your life with me."

The playful smile dropped off of Emma's face, and she gasped from the back of her throat, closing the distance between them with a broken, messy kiss, her hands instantly splayed against the back of Regina's ribcage. Emma suddenly felt fuzzy with an intense desire to consume Regina whole, to ravage her, to plunder her mouth and body.

Gentle, loving kisses gave way to a flair of passion, an imminent need to show each other the depth of what they felt for one another, how much mass it occupied in their universe.

Emma pulled Regina by the hand back into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the mattress. She moved Regina's body directly in front of her and gripped the hem of her sweater, helping her pull it over her head. Without pretense or prologue, Emma unsnapped and discarded Regina's bra and shimmied her black stretch pants down her legs, steadying her while she stepped out of them. Emma yanked her panties down, and Regina was finally naked before her.

Her blood was thrumming inside her. She wanted to calm herself down, but feeling _this_ alive, it was a like a drug. She stilled herself long enough to take Regina in, to look at the body before her, all her luscious curves and long stretches of warm, soft skin. In that moment, with her heart pounding and her body on fire, she was sure there was not another human being who could ignite her this way.

"Come here," Emma breathed, coaxing the brunette to climb up and straddle her, eagerly snaking her legs around her.

Regina ducked her chin down and plied her with a heated kiss, their chests so close, the wild percussive beats of their hearts creating an intense soundtrack. Adrenaline coursing through her, Emma leaned down and captured one of Regina's nipples, sucking it into her mouth and tugging at it roughly. At the moan pulled from Regina's lips, Emma bit down, harder than she meant to, harder than she ever had.

The brunette yelped, and Emma looked up, apologetically.

"God, baby I'm sorry. I'm feeling a little out of control," Emma whispered, trying to slide back, to gain some physical distance. "Maybe we should slow down—"

Regina tightened her grip on her with her arms and legs, shaking her head.

"No. Stay with me in this moment, Emma. You're allowed to lose to control with me," she said, her voice gravely but strong. "We trust each other. I'll tell you if anything is too much."

Emma held her gaze, needing every available sign of affirmation before she would allow herself to let go completely. She really didn't even know what to do, but the intensity of her feelings for Regina were mingling with her desire for her in a way that felt a little dangerous. But Emma couldn't find a hint of uncertainty in those dark eyes, and she knew the brunette was giving herself to her, even in this moment, when the stakes were high.

When Emma didn't move, Regina stood up, grabbing one of Emma's hands to pull her along with her.

"I got us something. And this seems like the right time," she said, guiding Emma to her closet, turning on the light, and grabbing a rectangular gift wrapped box from the top shelf. She brought it down and handed it to Emma, who eyed it cautiously. She ripped off the paper, revealing a purple dildo and harness, and she let out a small gasp, her pulse quickening yet again.

"I want you to be inside me this way. I want you to fuck me with it, Emma," Regina said, pulling the objects from the packaging. "Do you want to?"

"Jesus. Yes. Hell yes," Emma said, watching as Regina smirked and began helping Emma into the harness. She tugged at the straps, helping adjust it to Emma's small frame, and then she put the purple dildo into place. Regina walked languidly back to the bed and sat down, her own heart racing as Emma moved toward her, amazingly so sexy and still feminine with an erection standing proudly at her pelvis.

The air was thick with desire as the blonde stood between her legs. Regina leaned over and took the phallus into her mouth, licking down its length, and Emma felt the very last bit of resolve completely dissolve into oblivion.

She pushed Regina back on the bed and gripped her thighs, pushing them back toward the bed. Regina looked up and caught her eyes as Emma lined herself up and pushed into her body, gently at first, stilling for a moment. Regina hissed out a _yes_ , and that's all Emma needed. She began to thrust into her with force, losing herself in the momentum. She'd never done anything like this before, and she was surprised how good it felt, how much this felt like an extension of her own body, burrowed deep inside of her love.

"Yes, god, don't fucking stop," Regina growled. Her black hair was splayed messily and her face and chest were flushed, and her back was arched, and Emma knew she was close. With a sheen of sweat forming at her neck and chest from exertion, Emma moved them further up the bed, grabbing a pillow and pushing it under Regina's hips to gain leverage.

She swung each of Regina's legs into the crooks of her elbows and began to pound into her, putting the force of her desire and love into each push of her pelvis. Regina was whimpering and moaning, and the sight below her was enough to make her head explode.

"I love you, Regina. Let go, baby," Emma said, releasing a leg in favor of pinching a nipple tightly.

Regina's body went taught, and she began to writhe and shake beneath her. Emma slowed her movements, but she gently rubbed Regina's clit, trying to stretch Regina's pleasure, until at last her body went boneless and limp.

"Fuuuck," Regina whispered. Emma slipped out of her and removed the harness from her body, collecting Regina into her arms, letting the brunette plant her head on her chest and lay a floppy arm across her stomach.

"That was—" Emma said hoarsely.

"—Yes, it was," Regina breathed.

"That. What we just did. It was one of my fantasies," Emma admitted.

A slow, satisfied smile slipped across Regina's face.

"Mine too," Regina said.

They were quiet for a long stretch, each lost in the moment and the gravity of their own thoughts.

"But you never did answer me about moving in—"

"—Yes," Emma said with a smirk. She pulled Regina fully onto her body and reached up to kiss her. "That would be a yes."


	20. Chapter 20

Happy 2016! This one has a little something for everyone—romance, sex, even a cliff hanger. Tell me what you think. Love hearing from you. XX

* * *

Emma felt so far away, lost in dream, removed from the gravitational pull of conscious life, delightfully warm under the covers. But suddenly there was breath at her neck, curious fingers flitting across her clavicle, and then a hand at the small of her back that brought her closer to the surface of the summer morning.

But Emma still couldn't rouse herself, still semi-conscious and too content to fully ignite her senses. She heard a low murmur and then felt lips behind her ear, a nose grounding into the skin at the base of her skull, and a thigh against her backside. And then a hand was reverently cupping both her breasts, pulling a moan from her semi-conscious lips. Finally her eyes fluttered open, her libido and her brain lettering her know it was time to wake up.

"Good morning, my sweet girl. I want to make love to you, Emma, but you have to wake up a little bit," Regina said, her voice etched with a gravely morning thickness.

Emma felt a hand slide down the flat plane of her stomach, scoot past her belly button, and land teasingly at her pubic bone.

She felt Regina smile into her back at her reaction, and her face flushed with something more than desire. She'd felt this way a thousand times since their relationship began, enough times to know it was more than the physical excitement of the moment. Emma was rapturous, her insides spongy and bloated with affection and love.

It had been this way between them for months.

Once Emma agreed to move in with Regina and Henry, everything had happened in a blink. Despite Regina's offer to pay a moving company, Emma had refused. She really had so few belongings, having moved so often in her life. Plus, she never had the luxury of paying people to do things for her, and she said it just didn't feel quite right to her.

Instead Emma closed the restaurant for a Sunday afternoon at the end of June, enlisting David, Mary Margaret, August, Ruby, Belle, and of course Henry, to get all her things into the house on Mifflin Street "in time for the dinner rush." They worked all morning and into the belly of the summer afternoon heat.

"Jesus, Emma, could you have picked a hotter fucking day to move?" August said, feigning disgust, gesturing to the soaked bandana on his head. In truth, August was happier for Emma than he could find the words for. He loved her like a sister, and he could see with each passing day the impact Regina had on Emma's confidence, her cooking, and even her willingness to take risks.

"If you can't handle it, feel free to find the front door. I'm sure we got this without you, my man," Emma said, stuffing a fist into his shoulder playfully.

"You bitching again, Booth?" Ruby said, as she plowed into the room laden with with boxes, setting one down next to the armoire. Ruby looked around the room in awe. "Man, Emma. This is what I call an upgrade." She tugged at the blonde's ponytail and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek. "I hate to jinx it, but you kind of have everything you've ever wanted."

Emma gaped at her. "What the fuck, Red? You just tempted the gods there. I'm a dead man walking now. Some friend you are," she said with a smirk. "All right, it's hot as hell. Let's finish this."

When the final box was moved into the house and before the Mary Margaret's organizing brigade could begin in earnest, Emma pulled out a 2005 Italian Kurni she'd been saving since graduation from culinary school. Her hair pulled into a high ponytail and her cheeks flushed with exertion, Emma offered a grateful "Salut" and raised her glass to her friends, but Regina held up a hand.

She looked at Emma with a crooked smile.

"That's all you got, Swan?" Regina said playfully. "Before you all leave, I just want to say a proper thank you for all your help today, but also for being such loyal friends to Emma all these years. I know she wouldn't have gotten through the challenges she had to face or become the woman I fell in love with if it wasn't for you, so I just want you to know how much I appreciate you guys," Regina said, a warm smile draped across her face. "You are Emma's family, so now you're my family, too."

"Don't think this means we're forgetting about the Evil Queen business," August said with a smirk.

"Can we drink now?"

"Shut up, you stupid oaf," Emma said, slipping an arm protectively around Regina's waist. "My girlfriend is talking about how amazing I am. You need to zip it."

"Actually, I was talking about how amazing they are," Regina said with a wink. "But you are amazing, too, dear."

Whatever tension or caution had kept them from fully giving themselves to one another in the early stages of their relationship evaporated that day, as if they'd popped a balloon, and there was no longer anything keeping them from holding back.

Regina made every effort to make Emma feel like this was her home now and that she was all in. She invited Kathryn over to the house to get to know Emma a little better, and the two of them had become instant friends, bonding over Regina's odd quirks and habits, to the brunette's dismay.

She cleared out half of her closet, her drawers, and the vanity in the bathroom to make room for Emma's things. She emptied out a guest room for her bedroom furniture, and they went out shopping for some new things that felt a little more like Emma. And she put up almost no resistance (beyond a furtive grimace) when Emma insisted on finding a spot in their room for her favorite chair, which was worn and didn't match the furniture. And despite her dubbing it "The Ugly Chair," when Emma worked late at Saviors, Regina would curl up into it with a book, an afghan across her lap. Because it smelled like Emma.

* * *

The summer just melted away, the warm weather and the emollience of falling so completely in love had pushed even the days and nights Emma was at Saviors for long hours into hyper-speed. Henry worked as a lifeguard during the weekdays and hung out with his friends most nights, so they basically had the house to themselves. No matter how late she came home, Regina greeted her with a glass of wine and a long, lazy kiss.

Emma would shower and change, and they'd sit out on the terrace until well past midnight, drinking and laughing, caulking the gaps in their knowledge of each other with stories of their pasts and hopes for their future.

Sometimes Regina would help her write the next week's menu, the two of them pushing the envelope with their shared enthusiasm for food. Regina would often bookmark restaurant reviews and websites when she came across a chef who was innovating, or she'd read her a passage from an article on molecular gastronomy. They'd concoct ways to one-up them, and the results had been outstanding.

One night, they stayed up until 3 o'clock in the morning trying to perfect asparagus ice cream and sea buckthorn sorbet, which had impressed everyone, including August. By adding inventive flourishes to dishes that were already authentic and often rooted in tradition, the restaurant had garnered attention and surpassed expectations.

Emma had become a local star—beautiful, young, and creative. Saviors was written up in almost every newspaper and local magazine within a 200-mile radius, and Emma was booked on an upcoming episode of _Chopped_. The restaurant was packed every night, while Gold's floundered across town, standing slight and feeble in the ever-widening shadow cast by Saviors.

Regina was inspired by the rising star, and she felt completely revived, her affection for the culinary arts finding new life in the context of her love for Emma. It was a revelation. She found herself driving long distances to buy fermented daikon radish juice and elderberry flowers for their experimentation sessions. For her part, Emma was amazed but not surprised to learn just how good Regina was in the kitchen, how creative, how inspired, and how instinctive. It lit her up, turned her on, to share this passion of her life with the love of her life.

Almost every night, they'd abandon the terrace or the kitchen and head up to the bedroom, often making love for hours, discovering and exploring, pushing boundaries with enthusiasm and devotion. Emma was captivated. She was overwhelmed by everything she was feeling. She'd never really been given the chance to love someone, much less be loved so vibrantly in return. Her mind, body, and heart were engaged and satiated—she had never felt better or happier in her life.

But still, despite the strength of their relationship and the undeniably good byproducts that had come as a result, there was a loud, irritating, petulant voice in her head that she couldn't seem to silence—not with multiple orgasms, not with confessions of love, and not by Regina clearing out the entire left side of her closet for Emma's things. She's tried to drown it out, to smother it with a pillow. But it was needy and demanded to be heard. It told her that these kinds of things don't happen to people like her, not like this, not so completely, and certainly not forever. It promised her that something ugly and ominous wasn't far behind, that it was nipping at her heals.

And yet here she was, being awoken by tender, roaming hands, wrapped up in Regina's arms, coated with supple skin. She was being assaulted by affection from the front—fingers teasing and pinching her nipples—and from behind, Regina's breath was hot in her ear, the warmth of the body she loved adhered tightly to her own.

Emma felt that familiar knocking in her chest, lust and love threatening to split her open, and she began to breathe heavier as Regina worked her up. She let her body relax into what Regina was doing to her, tried to still her mind and give herself over to the sensations.

She watched a stray hand slide down the front of her body, almost like it was happening to someone else. But Regina's voice brought her back to the moment.

"God, I love this body," Regina whispered, turning Emma so she was on her back. She crawled on top of her and straddled her hips, her own body deliciously naked, so soft and lovely in the warm colors of morning. She splayed her hands across her ribs and grazed them across her breasts, leaning down to take one in her mouth, sucking, licking, and nipping at it with intension. She bit down playfully and sat up straight with a grin. She stilled her hands on Emma's stomach and gave her a playful look.

"You see this belly button? I claim this belly button in the name of the Queen," she said, planting a smacking kiss into her tummy.

"The _Queen_?" Emma said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, of course. The _Evil_ Queen. I stake claim on all of this in the name of Her Majesty," Regina said, waving her hand reverently across Emma's body and then scooting down to her legs so she could wiggle between them.

"Well, while I'm not sure I love this whole ownership analogy, I must say that, as the previous landlord, I'd like to know what your intensions are with your newfound territory," Emma said, a slow smile matching hooded eyes. "Do you have the proper permits?"

Regina's face brightened at the challenge.

"Well, you see, I've been assessing the land for some time now. I've gotten to know it quite intimately already. And I have absolutely no intension of letting go of something so exquisite. So I'm working on getting the necessary paperwork, but perhaps I could give you a small taste of what I plan to do?"

Emma nodded, and Regina immediately ended their teasing by pushing her face into Emma's folds, licking up and down the entire length. She lapped at Emma's clit and then sucked it completely into her mouth and grazed it with her teeth, pulling a long moan the blonde. She continued to lick and tease up and down her pussy, devouring her until Emma was hovering on the edge.

Regina looked up Emma's body with warm, affectionate eyes as she watched her arch and tense and pant her way closer to an orgasm.

"God, Regina. Don't tease. Make me cum."

She could see Emma was just perched on the edge, so Regina flipped her over and coaxed her onto all fours, taking a moment to appreciate how sexy she looked. She gripped her hip with one hand before sinking two fingers into her with her other and pumping a few times and then adding a third.

"Oh my god. You are dripping," Regina said, completely pleased with herself.

Emma was so wet that Regina slipped another finger into her and thrust her hand back into her with force.

Emma grunted and writhed, her eyes clenched so tightly shut, and Regina snaked her free arm around to reach her clit and began rubbing with determination.

"Fuck, yes," Emma panted out. "More, Gina. More, more. I'm so close."

Regina watched her hand disappear into Emma again and again, and she thought she'd never been more turned on, feeling the tightness building in her own groin. She thrust in again, using her hip to push all the way in, and at last Emma began to clench and tighten around her hand, crying out in pleasure, her back arched and her head thrown back. Regina eased her down, pulling her into her arms and kissing Emma's jaw and then her lips. She pulled back minutely, and Emma took a shuddering breath, flopping onto her back, boneless.

Regina giggled, taking in the blonde's doe-eyed expression.

"Are you ok, Em?" Regina said.

Emma propped up on the pillows and gathered herself. But no matter how many deep cleansing breaths she took, she couldn't seem to settle her heart.

"Yes. I just. I'm… I think I… Jesus. I can't even fucking talk," Emma said, shaking her head. Then she looked up at the brunette with more determination.

Regina smiled gently and leaned in to kiss her again. Emma felt a surge of adrenaline, of energy, of love, and she pulled up onto her knees. She grabbed one of Regina's hands and beckoned her closer.

"Come here," Emma said, till Regina mirrored her position, propped up on her knees, eye to eye with Emma. "I'm so in love with you. More than I ever thought I would be capable of loving someone. But also, you've become my best friend in the world. You've become… everything. You're everything to me. You and Henry."

Emma took a steadying breath. Her heart had taken control of her brain, and she couldn't believe how fast the words were flying out of her mouth. But she knew there was nothing should could or wanted to do to stop it.

"Regina, I want this to be forever. I want… I want you to be my wife. I want you to marry me. Would you? Will you?"

Regina's jaw swung open, her eyes pricked with tears. As the brunette opened her mouth to speak, Emma's phone began buzzing on the nightstand.

"I'm ignoring that. Whoever it is has the worst timing in the history of the world," Emma said, but then her phone immediately started buzzing again. "Shit."

"It's ok. Answer it. I'm not going anywhere," Regina said.

Emma picked up the phone and looked at the screen.

"Hey, Rubes…"

"Ruby? What's wrong—you have to slow down. _What_?"

"Red…. Jesus."

Regina watched Emma's face grow pale, the color draining with each passing second. The phone slipped from her hand and landed on the mattress. Regina reached for Emma's hand and dipped her head to the side to catch her eyes.

"What is it? What's happened?"

Emma willed her chin up, and the look in her green eyes made Regina grow cold.

"F-fire," Emma said flatly. "It's gone. It's all gone."


	21. Chapter 21

The response from the last chapter was so thoughtful and kind of amazing that it inspired me to hop right back on. (Also, what else is there to do when you're buried in two feet of snow?) You guys are kind of amazing, and you've made the experience of writing this story that much more rewarding. So thank you, and as always, your feedback is gratefully received.

* * *

Maybe it was the steady surge of adrenaline coursing through her. body Or it might have been the overwhelming sense of relief that no one had been hurt in the fire—not her friends working at the restaurant or any of the patrons. But from the moment she and Regina had left the house and headed to the waterfront to the gravesite of her dream, Emma had been stoic, her face taut and impassive.

It was quiet on the way there. Somehow Emma had expected sirens, even though the four-alarm blaze had long since been doused. For Regina, the quiet was unbearable, and her eyes pricked with hot, angry tears that pushed out onto her cheeks. But Emma looked straight ahead, unwavering as her girlfriend drove, her mind resolved to the idea that something like this was eventually going to happen because she had long since exceeded her quota of good fortune.

When they pulled into the parking lot, four firetrucks and six police car initially obscured their vision, but when they got close enough to see the building, Regina let out an audible gasp, her knuckles white at the steering wheel.

The fire had apparently taken place during the night and burned for hours before the flames grew high enough to see from a nearby residential neighborhood. Saviors had initially been a waterfront warehouse, so it was fairly isolated from the rest of Storybrooke. By the time firefighters got there in the middle of the night, the building had been completely ravaged. And even though the flames had long been extinguished by the time Emma and Regina arrived, a dozen or so police officers and firefighters remained there, presumably to secure the area and gather evidence and determine the cause of the blaze.

She moved to get out of the car, but Emma's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, steadying her for a moment. Regina looked over, finding her eyes for the first time. She searched for that warm, familiar expression she'd come to rely on, but it was clouded over with an unknowable expression that made Regina's stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Just—I need just one second. I…okay?"

"Yes, of course," Regina murmured, low and sad. "Whatever you need, Emma."

Emma was quiet for a minute, and Regina thought they might sit there in silence indefinitely, watching a few firefighters spray some embers around the corpse of a building,

"They warned me," Emma said. "They said I should rip out the guts of the place and rewire because the building was so old and not suited for something like this. But I was so anxious to get it up and running, and my budget was so limited, I used most of my money for making it look, you know, great, that I—"

Regina pulled at Emma's hands, looking at her intently with fierce brown eyes.

"—Whatever happens from here on, do not forget two things. This was not your fault. Do you hear me?" Regina said with grim determination. "And the second thing is that we are a team, and we will get through this together."

Emma nodded robotically. Regina scampered out of the car and opened Emma's door. The two of them walked toward the front of the building, stepping over the "S" and "A" of the Saviors sign as they made their way. One of the firemen, a tall man with a shadow of a beard and soot-covered helmet approached them.

"Ma'am? Do you belong here? Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm Emma Swan, the owner of this restaurant," Emma said quietly, the phrase she'd said so many times with pride now wrung of all emotion.

"I see. Well, I'm the fire chief. You can call me Robin," he said, jutting out his hand in greeting. "I'm sorry about the state of things. We did our best, but the call came too late I'm afraid."

Emma shook his hand and nodded solemnly.

"I'm sure you did everything you could, so thank you."

Regina took a step toward the fire chief.

"Robin, do you have any leads at this time? Because Emma has received threats," she said sternly.

"Well, we know the fire originated in the wood-fired grill, up and around the duct work," Robin said flatly. "Unfortunately, the building, as you know, is over 100 years old, so it just couldn't hold up in a sustained fire of this magnitude. But I understand you had quite the business going here, so I'm terribly sorry we couldn't salvage it. But since it happened in the middle of the night, no one was hurt, so that's a blessing."

Regina looked over at Emma, trying to gauge whether she should press further, but she was again unreadable. And they needed answers.

"Is there any sign of arson?" Regina asked.

"Honestly, no, at least not at first glance. But I'm not ruling it out. We'll obviously need to do some more questioning, and we'll need a statement from you, Miss Swan, but with a building this old, just a fire burning oven left on too long could do the trick."

Emma's head shot up, and she shook her head emphatically, her eyes sparking with anger. It was the first time Regina had seen her register real emotion since they left the house.

"I'm sure that wasn't the case," Emma said. "My staff is pretty meticulous about that kind of stuff."

Robin nodded, but Regina thought she saw a shadow cross his face.

"I'm sure this is too much for you to get your brain around, so we don't have to do this now," he said.

"No. It's fine," Emma said, her jaw steeled and her face once again impassive. "Ask me whatever you need to."

He pulled out a notepad from his back pocket.

"You said you've received threats? Can you offer specific names and instances? Anything you can tell me could help us figure out what happened here?"

"Ok. I understand," Emma started. "Well it's just been from one person, the threat, I mean. And there was really just one specific incident. After his restaurant first opened, Regina wrote a review of his place that wasn't entirely favorable, and a few days later he came into Saviors. I'm not sure how he knew we were together, but he came into my office and basically told me that if she didn't retract her review, he would make our relationship public and make it seem like the whole thing was fixed. Like Regina had purposely given him a scathing review to prop up Saviors," Emma said, pinching the bridge of her nose in disgust. "But honestly, he never threatened to do anything to the restaurant specifically, and I haven't really heard anything from him all those months ago."

"Yes, but he's a known scoundrel," Regina said, jumping in to keep Emma from letting him off the hook. "He's been associated with this kind of thing at some of his other restaurants. There was one competitor whose restaurant was infested with rodents just weeks after the inspectors had given the place a clean bill of health. He's a creep and a weasel, and he'll do anything to win."

Robin, who had been jotting down notes as they spoke, lifted his head to see if they were through.

"Ok, I have Mr. Gold's information—another one of your associates, Ruby, provided me with a similar account. I will certainly give all this information to the police, and they will look at that as a legitimate lead. Emma, we'll need to know about your insurance policy on the restaurant, and I'll need your whereabouts for last night recorded as well, although it is my understanding you were here until 8 p.m. and then you went home. Regina, can you vouch for Emma last night?"

"Yes, and my son Henry was with us last night as well. If you need further proof, I'm quite certain we can provide it," Regina said, her voice unwavering. She pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to Robin. "As far as the insurance policy, my attorney can provide me with all the information you need. We were looking into upgrading the policy, but unfortunately we have not yet moved forward with that decision, so the policy is quite basic at this point."

"I see. Thank you, Miss Mills. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Not at this time, but we will obviously be available for anything you need as the investigation continues. And I'm sure Emma and I will have questions in the coming days."

"Of course, and don't hesitate to call me. Here's my card with my direct number. Thank you both," Robin said, turning to leave.

Then he stopped in his tracks and called to Emma over his shoulder.

"Even dreams can be rebuilt, Miss Swan," he said before continuing toward one of the trucks.

* * *

Regina watched Emma walk like a shadow through the remains of the restaurant, taking in the blackened walls of the dining room, the overturned and demolished furniture, much of which she'd made with her own hands. Her fingertips grazed every available surface, as if Emma's eyes weren't enough to prove that what she was seeing was real. It wasn't until she crouched to pick up the shattered picture of August, Ruby, and Emma clinking glasses that Regina simply couldn't keep the emotions inside.

Watching her girlfriend bent over one of the most meaningful relics of her dream was just too much to bear. Her shoulders shook, and tears streamed down her face, carving southern lines through the soot on her face. She kept her distance to let Emma mourn, but she let herself cry.

Emma pulled the picture from the frame and curled it up like a poster, clutching it in her hand. She headed into what was left of the kitchen, the room scattered with blackened pans and cutlery, scorched appliances cracked and angry along the battered walls. From the doorway, Regina looked on as Emma peered around, her eyes unfocused and glassy. She thought she saw her sway on her feet, but she held her ground. She knew Emma needed her space right now.

Finally, after long, empty minutes surveying the wreckage, Emma left the building, having just taken the one photo, and came to a stop about 20 feet away. Regina followed and watched as Emma pulled her phone from her pocket, turned on the camera app, and snapped a picture of her demolished restaurant. She waited then, and Regina moved toward her, lacing their hands together and pulling her gently to the car. She opened the passenger door, helped her soot-covered girlfriend inside, and closed it gently. She got in the driver's side and drove them home in tense, painful silence.

* * *

Regina wished she knew what Emma was thinking. She hadn't spoken a word since they gave the information to Robin. Of the two of them, Emma had basically worn her heart on her sleeve since they met, so Regina ached to know what was happening in her mind now behind the dispassionate veneer. After they got home, Emma headed up the stairs without a word, and then Regina heard the shower turn on. But that was nearly 30 minutes ago, and she could still hear the water running. She made the decision then that, while she wanted to give her space, she needed to make sure Emma knew she was there and wasn't going anywhere.

Feeling a surge of determination, she gathered her courage, climbed the stairs, and headed into the master bedroom. She walked barefoot over to the bathroom door and opened it as quietly as she could and called Emma's name so she wouldn't startle her. But there was no answer.

Her heart began to pound wildly in her chest, although she wasn't sure exactly why. She suddenly found herself rushing toward the shower stall and thrusting open the door, desperate to know what was happening.

Emma stood there, blankly staring at the wall, not even looking up when Regina appeared inside. She reached out a hand to grab Emma's wrist, and it was ice cold. Emma was standing under a steady stream of freezing cold water practically catatonic, apparently so lost in her mind that didn't even register when the temperature changed.

"Jesus, Emma, you're going to freeze to death," she said, moving into the shower fully dressed without a thought. She put her arms around Emma's naked body and held her, using her free hand to turn off the water. She reached up and put both hands on Emma's cheeks, pulling her firmly toward her own face. "Look at me, dammit! Let me see you, Emma."

Emma's eyes finally shifted in Regina's direction.

"Come on. Let me get you warm," she said, trying to pull Emma out of the shower. But she wouldn't budge. Regina turned to get a towel, but Emma's arms finally came to life, and she held Regina in a death grip and began to shake and shiver and sob. Her body was taut with cold and pain as her senses finally awoke, and she clutched the brunette's shirt as she emptied her sadness into Regina's shoulder.

"I lost it all. Everything. It's... it's all gone," Emma whispered.

Regina's blood went cold at her words, her own fears and insecurities coating her body with an icy glaze. But she pushed past her own hurt and spoke the only words that came to her mind.

"Not everything, Emma. You have me," Regina said, feeling fully exposed even though she was the one still clothed.

Emma cried harder at that, but she pulled back to look at Regina.

"Do I? You won't leave me, not even after this? You knew this would happen, and now it did. And today, this whole time, I was looking at the rubble, and I'm broken hearted about the restaurant, but all I could think is that now I could lose you, too. That this could break us," Emma said, her words broken and choppy. "I can live without the restaurant. But I don't think I can handle losing you, too."

Regina pushed cold, wet strands of hair out of Emma's face and pushed the water and tears away from her cheeks. She pulled her out of the shower and wrapped her tightly in a fluffy blue towel. Then she took off her own clothes and wrapped a towel around her own body, walking them into the bedroom and pulling the comforter off the bed. She settled them on the floor and wrapped the blanket around them and looked directly at Emma.

"Emma, I know the last few hours have been some of the most painful hours of your life. But six hours ago, you asked me to marry you, to be with you forever. Did you mean it?"

"Yes, with everything in my heart, but—"

Regina smiled and pushed a finger in front of her lips. She reached under the bed and pulled out a small red box. She pulled Emma's hand from her lap and placed the box in her palm.

"I could have killed you this morning for stealing my thunder," Regina said, a small smile creeping across her face as she watched a torrent of emotion finally crack Emma's sadness and worry that had been there for hours. Emma's green eyes softened and widened, lit with genuine surprise and joy. Regina opened the box in Emma's palm and pulled out a stunning princess-cut diamond ring. She pinched it between her thumb and forefinger casually, as if it was beside the point.

"Yes, it's true, and I can't deny it. Months ago this would have sent me running for the hills, and I understand why you're afraid. I'm afraid too. But you, your determination—lets be real, your stubbornness—has changed everything. You never gave up on me, not even when I did. And now, now that you've won me over completely, made me love you with everything I am, I'm not about to walk away now. And I never will. I want this more than life, and that will never change. There's no fire big enough or disaster horrible enough or villain despicable enough to make me leave you or to make me stop loving you."

She took a moment to read Emma's expression and wipe a few stray tears that spilled down her face.

"Marry me, Emma. Marry me, and we can chalk what happened today up to a 'for worse,' knowing that so much 'for better' is around the corner. Marry me, and let me just fucking love you forever. Ok?"

For a moment, Emma didn't speak, but then the genuine face-splitting smile Regina had come to know so well began to blossom.

" _You bitch_. You just had to have the better proposal, didn't you?" Emma said with a warm laugh, launching herself at Regina. She kissed her soundly, slowly, disappearing the chasm of uncertainty that had grown from the heartbreak of the day. She slipped a tongue into her mouth draped her arms around her neck, pulling her in closer, tighter, more soundly. She pulled back and looked at the fingers that casually held the ring.

"Well?" Regina said playfully. "What's it going to be Swan?"

"Hell, yes, Mills."


	22. Chapter 22

I love getting your notes. Really. I love hearing what you think about this story and where it should go. Probably two chapters left and an epilogue, although ending this story is going to be bittersweet. Xo

* * *

Emma pried open an eye. Her cellphone was buzzing on the nightstand, pulling her into the morning and back to her new reality. She didn't recognize the number on the ID, so she let it go to voicemail.

Streams of sunlight were clawing through the cracks in the curtains, and she fought off a sick, mournful wave that threatened to wash over her as the remnants of the day before began to formulate in her head. The charred remains. The emptiness. The painful shadow someone had intensionally cast over her life. Her chest felt tight, and her stomach was uneasy.

But then she shifted in bed, and the sun caught her hand that was resting on her stomach. And the glint from the ring—her _engagement_ ring—brought a barreling, determined happiness that shot right through her. She looked at the sleeping figure next to her then, the antidote to the pain of what she'd lost, and Emma let the hopefulness for their future take hold. She let go of the swirl of harsh memories for the moment, and instead let the thoughts of the proposal and the aftermath flood her mind.

* * *

After she'd said yes to the marriage proposal, Emma and Regina went downstairs into the kitchen and waited for Henry to come home from school. They sat across from each other at the table, their knees touching, their cheeks flushed with the emotions of the day.

Emma pulled one of Regina's hands into her lap and sandwiched them between her own, playing nervously with her fingers. She looked at the long, ladylike fingers, tipped with perfectly painted red nails, so different than her own—scarred from years of kitchen cuts and burns.

Once again reaching into the grab bag of feelings, of which she'd run the gamut in the last few hours, she settled into an anxious excitement, wondering internally if their engagement would be welcome news for Henry. Emma knew he cared for her, but this was a big step. Plus, it was one thing to accept that your mother was in a relationship with a woman, but to marry one… that could be difficult for a teenage boy to process.

But really, all of that took a backseat to the gnawing question it always boiled down to for Emma. _Will he want me?_

She kept her eyes focused on their hands, and she lost herself momentarily in her thoughts. But Regina used her free hand to tip her chin up, and she looked into her eyes appraisingly for a moment. She kissed her knuckles and brought her forehead in to meet Emma's. Then she whispered words that spoke to every fear and every insecurity that traipsed across her heart.

"Don't worry. He's going to be ecstatic. He already thinks of you as a mother. He loves you, Emma, and this will make him happier than you can ever know," Regina said softly, applying a soothing balm to Emma's uncertain mind.

Emma shook her head, a small, nervous laugh escaping her throat.

"How do you always know what to say?" Emma said, cocking her head with warm affection in her eyes.

Before Regina could answer, the front door slammed shut, and Henry came bounding into the kitchen, a worried expression tapered to his face.

"Guys? What's going on? Someone at school said there was a fire. What's—what's happening?"

Regina stood up and grabbed one of Henry's hands, guiding him gently to the table to join them.

"Henry, please sit down. It's been quite an eventful day, darling, and we have quite a lot of news to share with you, good and bad," Regina said, her voice soft and low.

Henry looked at Emma nervously, trying to read her face. She gave him a weak smile, trying to convey that everything was going to be fine, even if she wasn't sure herself. But Henry's bullshit meter was almost as good as Emma's.

"It's true? Savior's burned down?" he said, his eyes welling with tears. "Who? How did—"

Regina opened her mouth to speak, but Emma knew it had to come from her.

"—We don't know the details yet, Hen. All we know is that there was a fire that began in the kitchen late last night, probably with the fire-burning oven. The building is old, and the duct work went up in flames, and it burned for a very long time before someone saw it. Cause it happened in the middle of the night, you know? So by the time the fire department got there, it was…"

The words were still too hard to say, and Regina instinctively put her hand on Emma's knee, just for weight, for presence.

"Was it an accident?" Henry said. "Because you said—"

"We just don't know yet, Hen. We have to let them sort it out. Still probably at the beginning of a long investigation, you know? I cued up Chicago Fire for us so we can check out proper protocol and keep these fools honest," Emma said with a sideways grin.

"How can you joke about it, Em? It's your dream," Henry said, his throat tight.

"Well, because it's only part of my dream. The other part of my dream is to be part of a family who I love and who loves me. And something else happened today that made _that_ dream come true," Emma said, wiggling the fingers of her left hand in front of Henry and giving him a genuine, fully lit smile.

"Holy shit!" he shouted.

"Henry! Language," Regina said, feigning outrage.

"You asked her to marry you?" Henry said, looking at his mom with shock and reverence.

"Um, technically I asked her first," Emma said. "Just have to get that on the record."

Regina laughed.

"It's true. In the morning, right before we got the call about the fire, she asked me to marry her. But then, we got a bit side-tracked by this devastating news. And when we got home, I thought it was a good time for me to give Emma the ring we picked out and let her know that I was in this for… you know, forever," Regina said, with a satisfied smile.

"Jeez, you guys couldn't be like normal parents where the big news is, like, getting Netflix streaming or going to Disney World or something?" he said, but hauled both women in for a hug, kissing his mother and then Emma on the cheek, a few stray tears escaping from his eyes. "Guys, this is incredible. I mean, I'm so sorry about the restaurant. But Emma! I have some great ideas for another restaurant, and—wait! When's the wedding going to be? Can I be the best man? Should I call you Mom now? Or Madre? Mamacita?"

Regina and Emma just laughed at Henry's enthusiasm. Emma grabbed one of Henry's wildly waving hands.

"Call me Emma," she said. "I love you, Hen."

"I love you, too, Emma," he said back.

* * *

Emma let her head fall into the pillows, snuggling into the memories from their evening together, feeling official and sturdy in their newfound status as a family. The words "fire" and "arson" were never uttered, and they'd turned their phones to vibrate, ordered pizza, and opened a bottle of wine.

Another buzz signaled the caller left Emma a message, so she pressed the play button and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello, Miss Swan, it's Robin from the Storybrooke Fire Department. I'm sorry to disturb you so early in the morning."

"I'd like you to come in today, if that's possible for you… We went through all the transcripts of our interviews yesterday and compared some notes with the Storybrooke Police Department. We plan to bring in some suspects for questioning today, but first there's some discrepancies we'd like to discuss with you if possible. If you have a chance to come down to the station today, I'd like to run those past you first. Thanks you. I'll speak to you shortly…"

Emma scowled at the phone in her hand. _D_ _iscrepancies_? What the hell did that mean? Just then, Regina stirred, an arm unconsciously reaching across the bed in search of Emma's body. When she found her, the brunette wound herself possessively around her body, securing her into a tight grip, and Emma just let herself be held. She slid her phone back onto the nightstand. She felt loved. She felt safe.

"Em-mah, isss nah-time to get up yeh," Regina muttered, in adorably sleepy syllables that stuck together.

 _Just a few minutes_ , she thought, as she let herself drift back off to sleep in her fiancé's warm, protective embrace.

* * *

Three hours later Emma and Regina were settled in a nondescript waiting room at the Fire Station, where they'd been sitting for 20 minutes, waiting for Robin to see them.

"I told you this would be a waste of your time, Regina. You should just go home. I'll call you when I'm done here, and you can swing by and pick me up," Emma said, rubbing between her eyebrows.

"Emma, that's the third time you've said that to me. So I'll give you a different answer this time," Regina said, her voice pinched with irritation. "If this situation was reversed, would you let me come to station alone to make a statement? Wouldn't you want to be by my side?"

"Mm-hmm," Emma said, a small smile creeping across her face in amusement. "This is how it's going to be for the rest of my life, isn't it? You're going to win every single argument. I don't stand a chance. Maybe throw me a bone around our anniversaries, just to make me feel good about myself."

The door to Robin's office swung open, and Mr. Gold barreled out of it like he was shot out of a cannon. Emma and Regina both sucked in a breath, and Mr. Gold sauntered right past them. Robin stepped out of his office to greet Emma and Regina. But then he turned on his heels and swung back to face them, speaking with emphasis as though they had been in the middle of a heated conversation.

"I may have resorted to somewhat unorthodox and even conniving chicanery in the past, but I'm not an arsonist. Besides, you've developed quite the fan base, Miss Swan. I'd be quite a fool to engender further sympathy and affection for you. Now that this has happened, I'm quite sure you could run for mayor or serve hotdogs out of the back of your pathetic little Bug and have restauranteurs from Alaska lined up around the block and raving on Yelp about how creative you are. No, I don't think I would have set you up to become the restaurant martyr I fear you are about to become. Would be quite short-sighted of me, don't you think, ladies?"

And just like that, he slithered out of the station. Emma stared impassively at the door as he left, but Regina was positively seething.

"He's disgusting little imp," Regina said through clenched teeth. "But I think—"

"—He didn't do it," said a gravely voice from behind them. August walked in, looking wrecked, his hair disheveled, his face unshaven, and his eyes bloodshot.

Emma's eyebrows furrowed, and she went to him, putting her hands on his shoulders in comfort.

"Jesus, you look like hammered shit. Are you ok, August?" Emma said, putting a palm against his scruffy cheek. "I should have called to check that you were doing all right. I've been so caught up with myself that I—"

"It was me, Emma. I caused the fire," August said, his voice catching in his throat, his words barely above a whisper. Behind her, Regina gasped, and Robin ran to his desk to grab a notepad.

"What the hell are you talking about, August?" Emma said, her eyes narrowed and her hands suddenly clammy.

"I—I, uh. Wow, this is hard, Em. You need to know that you're the last person on this planet that I would ever want to hurt or let down," he said, steadying himself against the wall. Emma steeled her jaw, bracing herself for the blows she expected to come next.

"Ok, well, here goes. So the thing is, I have a bit of a drinking problem. I mean, you know, I always have, and we joke about it and stuff, but it's gotten away from me a bit in the last few months."

"It's sick, I know, but the happier you got with Queenie here, the worse I got, and the more alone I felt. I guess I was jealous. Pathetic, right? Not because I have, like, feelings for you or anything because you're like my sister. But you and I were always kind of simpatico in our mutual self-loathing and Eeyore-ishness. Or at least I thought so. But when you found this amazing true love and were just lifted into stardom and happiness like a fucking angel from heaven… Jesus, I just kinda lost myself," August said, his eyes cast at the floor. Emma noticed he had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and some percolating across his upper lip.

"Anyway, it wasn't like some diabolical thing I did or planned or anything. Just the opposite. I kind of drank myself into a stupor, and I must've left the oven on last night," August said, his voice cracking, hot tears betraying him. "The irony, right? I mean the fucking oven, Swan. It's crazy, right, because I convinced you to get that stupid fucking oven. You said we should invest the money in a few more line chefs to make sure the kitchen ran smoothly. Ha! You remember that? I told you to stop doubting me, and I made you feel like shit about it. Shoulda listened to your gut there Swan. If you made any mistakes at all in this whole thing, trusting me to be your go-to guy would be top of the list, my friend."

August took a deep breath and hauled his head up, finding Robin who stood somewhat slack-jawed behind Regina.

"I guess you'll need me to revise my statement or whatever," he said, looking back at Emma. "In case I wasn't loathsome enough in the last 24 hours, I was gonna blame it on that Gold guy. Figured he was sleazy enough to take the fall. But I remembered that built-in lie-detector you got. Plus, I would have had to drink myself to death to ever look you in the eye again. So, there you go," August said, his voice hoarse and raw.

Emma just stood staring at him, tears rolling down her face, one after another, his self-hatred almost as hard to hear as his confession.

"So that's it. Uh, you can press charges. That's probably smart—maybe you can get a settlement or something. Plus, a little jail time would have the added bonus of giving me a chance to sober up before I hit the celeb chef circuit on the Food Network," he said, giving Emma a wink. He started to shuffle away from her toward Robin, and Emma finally awoke from her stunned silence.

"Don't move, Booth," Emma said, turning to face him. "Look at me. We are both to blame in this. You left the oven on last night, but I have been a shit friend and a terrible boss. I've been so wrapped up in myself and my own happiness that I couldn't even see what you were going through or that you were coming to work drunk. So this is on us, as a team, and we're going to make it right. You are the closest thing I've had to family, and families don't desert each other."

She took a deep breath and put her hands back on his shoulders, resuming her original stance, before August sucked all the air out of the room with his admission of guilt.

"This is how this is going to go. You are going check yourself into rehab, and I'm going to be there for you through your recovery. Because when you're sober, you are one of the best chefs I know. And I'm going to need a good chef, August. I can't do this without you. Cause we're fighters, you and I. We get back up, right?"

Emma leaned in to hug him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. August tucked his face into Emma's neck and began to sob, his shoulders heaving in relief and sadness. Robin walked into his office and shut the door to give them some privacy, and Regina walked into the bathroom to compose herself.

When they were alone in the room, August picked up his head and looked Emma squarely in the eye for the first time.

"I am so sorry, Swan," he said, his voice thick and low. "And you did not let me down. This is not on you."

"I am sorry, too," Emma said. "I love you, August. But you really do look like complete shit."

A low rumble built in August's chest, and before they knew it, they were both cracking up, clutching their sides in hysterical laughter.

Regina walked back in, shaking her head at the scene in front of her.

"You two are fucking insane," she said. "I think you deserve each other."

"We know," Emma said.


	23. Chapter 23

They check August into rehab. Emma faces some demons of her own. And then we all take a very cold shower. Well, not together, but... PS: Ok. I lied. I don't know how many chapters are left. I love writing it too much. You guys still with me?

It took several hours for Emma and August to finalize their statements with Robin at the fire station, combing through the details of the night in painstaking detail. August looked emotionally winded and utterly exhausted, and each time he had to recount some aspect of his oversight seemed to cause him physical pain.

Emma would periodically rub his knee encouragingly or bump his shoulder playfully, trying to reassure him with physical contact. But her proximity and genuine empathy seemed to make him feel worse, like he was a monster for hurting someone so caring and so pure.

By late afternoon, his face looked sallow, his hands visibly shook, and his words were labored and sluggish. But since Emma had made it clear she did not want to press any charges and since August had agreed to check himself into rehab immediately, Robin had to press forward late into the afternoon.

So August went over and over his usual evening ritual as he closed up Saviors—checking and double checking everything was cleaned, emptied, and turned off before he left each night. But he explained that by the time the dinner rush was over on the previous evening, he was already well into the bottle of Bourbon he kept in the kitchen walk in. He hardly even remembered how he got home, much less what he turned off before he left.

"So how can you be 100 percent certain you _didn_ _'_ _t_ turn it off?" Robin asked tersely.

August just looked at him blithely.

"Seriously? How do I know? Well, for starters, the restaurant burned down," he spat, making Emma wince.

She took in August's face and leaned into toward Robin.

"You know what, chief? I know you're doing your job and everything, but I think we need a break. I'm sure whatever details we may have missed can be cleared up in the weeks to come, and I'm happy to come back tomorrow and as many times as necessary to finalize all of this and put an end to the matter. This was clearly an unfortunate accident. Would be all right if we left for the day?"

Robin put down his pen and looked between the two. He sighed and nodded, seeing that they were clearly out of juice.

"Yes, thank you both for being so cooperative. I'll be in touch, Miss Swan, if I have further questions," he said, tapping a stack of papers on his desk and rising to his feet. He waited for August and Emma to stand and guided them to the door.

August followed Emma, shuffling toward the door like a toddler being led by his mother. Emma stepped out into the waiting room, but Robin put a hand on August's shoulder, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

"Mr. Booth," Robin said, "I know it's not my place, and you seem to be in very good hands, but I just want to say that I have been in your shoes. I know quite a lot about addiction, and if you're looking for a sponsor, or if there's anything I can do, please let me know."

August raised his bloodshot eyes, staring at Robin with a weary but grateful expression.

"Thank you," he said softly. "That's very kind."

Robin gave him a clap on the back, and August stepped into the waiting room behind Emma.

"Regina should be here in a few minutes to pick us up. She made arrangements at a really good place, and she stopped by your house and got some of your things. I hope that's ok," Emma said.

August gave her a weak smile.

"It's going to have to be, right?" he said.

"Right," Emma said, looping her arm through his and guiding him toward the entrance of the fire station.

* * *

The closer they got to the rehab facility on the outskirts of Storybrooke, the more Emma felt a sickening sense of dread. Regina had spent the afternoon looking for the best place for him, and she found a spot on a nature reserve that was ideal for a little soul searching. It was serene and private, but the prospect of leaving her friend to fight through his addiction and battle his demons with strangers made her ache with sadness. She felt like she was deserting him somehow.

In the front seat of the car, Emma worried her bottom lip and picked at the hem of her shirt relentlessly until Regina finally reached over and took the hand she could reach and brought it into her lap. Regina's eyes never left the road to glance at her, which Emma was grateful for, but she still seemed to sense the snarled traffic of guilt and pain noisily making its way through her fiancé's mind.

So when they arrived, Regina wordlessly handled the check in, speaking to the nurse manager and filling out the necessary paperwork. The check-in nurse informed them that rehab wasn't covered by his health insurance, but before either one of them could process what that meant, Regina had plunked down her credit card for the immediate costs and offered her billing address for the remainder of the stay. Emma considered protesting, but she'd learned through their months together that when Regina operated on this channel, there was very little that could be done to alter the trajectory, and that most often, she was right.

So Emma focused on August, who was ashen and clammy, but seemed relieved as he was guided to a small, clean room with a bed, an empty desk, and a tiny bathroom. While he took off his shoes and sat down on the bed, Emma took a moment to speak to the nurse.

"Hi, I'm Emma, nurse…"

"Elsa."

"Elsa. Great. So, what's this going to be like for him? I mean, I've obviously seen it on TV or whatever where the first few days of withdrawal are really awful. Is that, like, real?" she said, nervous tension pulling her lips into a frown.

The nurse, who was a thin, prim-looking woman with icy blue eyes, took pity on her.

"I'm afraid so, dear, but we are going to take very good care of him here. He's exactly where he needs to be, and this is what we do. We get him well so that he's strong enough to take back his life in the coming weeks and get back to his life," the nurse said kindly, putting her hand on Emma's bicep. "He's going to be ok, and you can come see him next week."

"O-Ok," Emma said weakly. When the nurse left, Regina stepped forward, placing a hand at the small of her back.

"Are you ready to go, Em?"

She was prepared to usher her out, as she could feel Emma teetering on the brink of a breakdown. But then, right before her eyes, Regina watched as Emma straightened up, steeled her spine, and took a deep breath, seeming to find a new gear and headed back toward August. When she got to his bedside, she kneeled down before him, placing her hands on his thighs. He looked far away, and he barely registered her presence.

"August? I know you're feeling like a pile of worthless crap right now, but I want to tell you something. You'll probably never remember this, but during our first week of culinary school, we had that class together with that fucking Gestapo chef who loved to dress us down."

"He humiliated me on the second day because I burned my creme brûlée to a crisp, you remember? He told me that if I couldn't caramelize a creme brûlée without turning it to charred remains then I would never make it out of his class alive, much less make it as a chef. He said I would be a class-A failure," Emma said, with a smug smile on her lips.

"You remember what you did? You pulled out your textbook-perfect creme brûlée, and you said, 'Just because you can caramelize something perfectly doesn't mean you're not a class-A asshole,'" Emma said with a laugh. "The whole class cracked up, and you were on his shit list for the rest of the class. But he never treated me that way again because you totally knocked him on his ass in front of everybody."

August looked at her, his eyes turning liquid and warm for the first time all day. He breathed out a laugh and rubbed the hand on his thigh gratefully.

"August, you've saved me so many times, and it's ok to need a little saving, too. You are my brother, and I promise you're going to be ok. Ok?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice. Emma stood up and ran a hand gently through his hair.

"The nurse said you can call me if you need me. Any time, day or night, if you need to hear a friendly voice or…"

She leaned down and whispered that she loved him, kissed his cheek, and turned to go. Regina then squeezed August's shoulder and turned to follow Emma from the room.

"Regina?" August said, his voice raspy and tight, stopping her in her tracks. She turned back to him, her face open and questioning. "Take care of her. She'll show a strong face, but she's broken inside."

Regina nodded.

"I swear I will. You can trust me with her heart. I'm going to guard it with my life," Regina said, tears welling in her eyes. "Just get better, August. She won't take the next steps without you."

She gave him one last lopsided smile and followed Emma into the lobby and out the door.

* * *

By the time they headed home, it was nearly 9:30, and Emma yawned in the passenger seat.

The drive home was quiet, but a deafening storm was thundering in Regina's mind, plagued by a thousand thoughts and questions about what her role should be in the coming days and how best to protect Emma without belittling or suffocating her.

She had spent the afternoon calling around to find the best rehab facility for August and squaring away the logistics so he and Emma wouldn't have any extra details to worry about. But for all her pragmatism, Regina was overwhelmed with emotion. On the one hand, she was completely enchanted and amazed watching Emma toss her own emotional needs aside to put her friend's needs first, but she also felt an overwhelming desire to protect Emma from both outside threats and the harm she presented to herself in her effort to step in front of the bullet.

She'd seen her do it so many times. Having avoided her own demons for so long, Regina recognized the same tendencies in Emma. But Regina knew she needed to face this loss, to feel the acute pain that was sure to come, and to allow herself to mourn it in order to move on.

Staring at the road ahead, the blur of the oncoming headlights, suddenly Regina knew without a shadow of a doubt what she needed to do, what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She felt her heart begin to race as adrenaline began to flood her bloodstream at the power of the revelation, and her knuckles grew white on the steering wheel at the realization.

She was so swept away that she barely registered when she'd pulled the car into the garage and yanked up the parking break. She sat there for a moment until she felt a warm hand brush her cheek. She looked toward the hand, and Emma was looking at her with tired affection.

"Long day. You still with me?" Emma said softly.

Regina just smiled in return and got of the car, walking around to open the door for Emma and offering her a hand to help her out of the car. They linked hands and walked inside and hung their coats, not bothering to turn on the lights. Regina followed Emma upstairs and shut the door behind her.

Emma sat down on the bed with an "oomph" and unzipped her boots, tossing them carelessly to the floor on her side of the bed. She rubbed her eyes, looking out at nothing in particular.

"Do you feel like talking?" Regina said so softly, afraid to move too quickly or talk to loud. "It's a lot to process."

Emma sighed. "I'm not even sure I know what I'm feeling. This has been an unbelievable day. And I really just can't believe I've had my head so far up my ass that I didn't see what was in front of me. Great friend, huh? Are you sure you want to marry me? You may start growing a third arm, and I'll be too self-absorbed to notice," Emma said dismissively.

Regina felt goosebumps raising along her arms and the back of her neck. This is what she feared.

"Emma? Do you trust me?"

"Of course, why would you even ask—"

"Do you think I have good judgement?"

"Regina—"

"Just answer me honestly," she said.

"I trust you with my life, and you have better judgement than anyone I've ever met. Except for that one time you tried to break up with me, but hey, no one's perfect," Emma teased.

"Ok, then you'll take what I say right now seriously. Right?" she said, her eyes blazing with an intensity that Emma had only seen once or twice.

She met her dark eyes and gave a solemn nod.

"This was _not_ your fault. This did not happen because you were preoccupied with your love life or because you were selfish. This happened because August has a lot of personal demons, things he needs to address—pain, fear, insecurities. He's broken, like you and I, and he's been using alcohol to cover it, like I used isolation and like you use self-deprecating humor and put everyone else's needs before your own," Regina said, in a gentle, measured tone. She kneeled in front of Emma, whose eyes were wide and wet. Her chin began to quiver, and Regina placed her hands on her knees.

"He is a grown man, responsible for his own actions, and what he did unraveled a dream that you worked very hard to achieve, and that's on him. This was not your fault, Emma, and nothing you did would have changed things," Regina said.

"If I had known, I could have gotten him help sooner, and—"

"No. This was _not_ your fault—say it. Say the words," Regina insisted.

Emma shook her head. Regina climbed up onto Emma's lap, straddling her, wrapping her legs around her, and looked her dead in the eye.

"You are the kindest, most empathetic, most human person I have ever met. But you are not a superhuman, and even _you_ could not have changed this. This is not your fault. You need to say it. You need to believe, or it will swallow you, and then me, and then Henry. This was not your fault. Say it, Emma."

"This—this was not my fault," Emma whispered.

"Louder. Look at my eyes. Say it," Regina commanded.

"This was not my fault," she said, more determined, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Again."

"This was not my fault," Emma said, louder still.

"I love you with everything I am, and this is _not_ going to break us. He'll be fine, and you'll be fine. Because of this—this magic thing between us—we won't let each other fall."

And with that, Emma began to sob, tightening her grip around Regina and burrowing her head in her neck. She emptied her guilt and sadness into the love of her life, who absorbed it gratefully, until she began to hiccup and gasp for air. Regina started to rub soothing circles along Emma's back until her breathing began to slow and the tension left her body. Emma pulled her head up, and Regina wiped her tears away, brushing her hair back from her face.

"Regina?" Emma whispered, "Will you—I want you to make love to me. Will you?"

The brunette's eyebrows shot up. That was the last thing she expected Emma to say. She went to object, but the pleading look on Emma's face changed her mind.

"I need to feel you. I need you," Emma said.

"Ok," Regina said. She leaned in to kiss Emma gently, but the blonde immediately deepened the kiss, and in a split second the energy between the changed from soothing and protective to heated and needy. Regina tried to slow it down, to make the kiss loving and gentle, but Emma pulled back. She looked at Regina and shook her head.

"No. I need you to take me. I don't want to feel anything besides you right now. No gravity or sadness or air—just you," she said.

Emma took off her shirt and was starting to peel offer pants, but Regina snapped to and gripped Emma's hands. For a moment Emma thought Regina was rejecting her, but then Regina gave her a mischievous smirk.

" _My_ job," she said. She finished sliding her pants down her legs, pulling off her socks, leaving Emma in her underwear. She unbuttoned her own shirt, shimmying out of it before unzipping her pants and ridding herself of those, too. She unstrapped her bra, stepped out of her thong, and pried Emma's underwear down her legs. She left their clothes in a pile on the floor and planted a knee on the bed, moving to sit behind Emma. She easily unsnapped the blonde's bra, dropped it on the floor, and pushed her front flush to Emma's back.

She moved Emma's hair aside and nuzzled her neck, nipping and kissing under her ear. Her hands reached up to cup her breasts, just feeling the weight of them in her hands.

"Tell me what you need," Regina husked into her ear, "and I will do it."

The promise made Emma groan and she tipped her head back further on Regina's shoulder.

"I know you want to be gentle with me right now. But I need you to remind me I'm not fragile. I'm strong. Make me feel your love, Regina."

"Oh god," Regina whimpered, feeling the request jolt through her core.

That was all the convincing she needed. She pinched her nipples between her fingers and tugged at them roughly, coaxing a throaty moan from the blonde. Regina knew how sensitive her breasts were, so continued to pull at them until she could feel how worked up Emma was.

She slipped her left hand down along Emma's hip and snaked it down between her thighs, and even though she expected her to be wet, what she felt when her fingertips slipped into her pussy made her gasp.

"Emma, fuck. So wet," she said, her fingers finding her clit and pinching it with the same energy and power she had used on her nipples. She was so turned on, Regina found herself grinding imperceptibly against Emma's ass as she lost herself in the moment.

"Regina, harder. You're going to make me cum," she said, coaxing the brunette to speed her hand and apply more pressure to her clit. "Fuck. Fuck. Yes, that's so good. Fuuuck."

Emma bucked against her hand and rode out her orgasm with a sigh.

Regina moved next to Emma and looked at her, trying to gauge what to do next. Emma kissed her, and Regina was surprised how much urgency was still in the kiss, as if her first orgasm had just taken the edge off.

"More," Emma said, pulling back just a fraction of an inch. "Fuck me."

Regina nodded with understanding, and she rose from the bed, walking to the closet to grab the strap-on and the biggest dildo they owned. She was still slightly apprehensive, but she wanted to give Emma exactly what she needed in this moment.

She stepped into the strap-on and adjusted it till the fit was snug. Emma was usually the one that did this to her, so it still felt a little weird. But hot. If she was being honest, she couldn't wait to fuck her. She inserted the flesh-colored dildo, and as she walked to the bed, Emma licked her lips. Regina was about to turn her on her back, but Emma got up on all fours and let her head fall to the bed, wagging her ass tantalizingly in the air.

"Jesus," Regina said, grabbing Emma's hip with one hand as she guided her erection into her with the other. She let the head slip in and pushed in just an inch, letting Emma adjust to the intrusion. Emma grunted, and Regina pushed in just a fraction further.

Emma back pushing back toward Regina, signaling she wanted more, so she pushed forward again. She pulled back and then pushed in further, repeating the action until she was in to the hilt. She looked down at their bodies, and she was so turned on that knew she was going to cum soon.

"Don't hold back, Regina," Emma said.

Regina tightened her grip of Emma's hips, digging her fingers into to set the pace, and she began plowing back and forth into her body, loving the leverage she had from her standing position. Emma was whimpering and crying out, and Regina knew they were both at the edge. She she climbed on the bed and adhered her front to Emma's back, reaching around to pinch her nipples once more.

"Fuck yes, don't stop. Please," Emma begged, her eyes clenched tightly and her fingers gripping the edge of the mattress. Regina thrust into her with all her power a few more times.

"Emma, I'm cumming! Fuck!"

And then Emma came, shaking and writhing, until they collapsed, exhausted, onto the bed. Regina slid out of the strap-on and pulled the blankets over them, snuggling her body into Emma's.

"Regina?" Emma whispered in the dark.

"Yeah, baby?"

"That was hot."

Regina laughed, her face still flush from exertion.

"I love you, R."

"I love you, too. Sleep. Just sleep."


End file.
